


We're the Monsters

by FunnyWings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Dean, Fucked up team free will, Juvenile Delinquent!Claire, M/M, Soulless Sam Winchester, fallen!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 10:23:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 132,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5371811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunnyWings/pseuds/FunnyWings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A knight of hell, a soulless hunter, and a fallen angel walk into an alley. What could go wrong? A retelling of canon in which Team Free Will aren't the heroes, or the "chosen ones", but end up saving the world anyway. Claire's there, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pleased to Meet You, Go Away

Dean walked down the street, blood buzzing. This new body, this could work. He liked the eyes, liked the ride it came with, liked the slight swagger in his step. Liked the strength he could feel in every muscle, his own compounded on top of it, leaving him feeling a little bit high on power.

It was good to be out.

He'd already slit his own throat, getting rid of the soul that had been riding shotgun since he took over. He didn't need the constant fight with a decent man. He'd had enough of being decent. Enough of trying for the greater good. It was time to pass around a little pain. He just had to know who to pick.

A street light flickered, suddenly turning on as the it got darker and darker. It illuminated a figure just below, a man. He held himself up straight, but he looked lost. Uncertain. Dean smiled. He looked like just the kind of man who could disappear without too many questions being asked.

"You need help, buddy?" Dean asked, sounding friendly. He knew how to sound safe. He had played games in hell, with new souls. They would believe him, think they were going to be okay. It hurt them that much worse when he started cutting them apart, piece by piece.

"Not from you," the man said, his voice thick with disgust. Dean grabbed the front of his coat. The man didn't resist.

"I don't like your tone."

The blade that pierced his stomach caused enough pain for Dean to let go. He staggered back, surprised at the sensation. On top at least, he'd never once felt any kind of pain. What the hell had he been stabbed with?

"That's unusual," the man said quietly, clearly unhappy.

"Did you just stab me?"

"Why aren't you dead?"

Dean flicked his eyes to black.

"I'll give you three guesses."

The man circled him slowly, trying to gauge something from him.

"You're a demon, that much is obvious."

"You a hunter?" Dean asked amused. It would be just his luck to run into a hunter his first time out. He'd been gone for nearly a decade on Earth, so there was no chance this man knew him. He was too young. He would have been a kid when Dean was hunting.

"Labels. I find them restricting," the man muttered, still circling Dean. Dean started to get bored with his tireless examination. He caught the man's arm and pushed him into a nearby alley, where they would not be easily seen.

"You don't seem scared, even for a hunter."

"You can't kill me."

Dean got close, backing the man against the wall in his effort not to let Dean touch him, his face turned away in disgust.

"Wanna bet?"

Dean split open his stomach and reached his arm in, yanking the man's guts out. He smiled as he looked up from what he was doing to meet the man's expression. He looked... annoyed?

"You're not dead," Dean huffed. Just out of hell and he couldn't even kill people properly. Figured.

"Not human. What are you?"

"Demon."

"More than that."

Dean grinned.

"Not telling," he said. He looked back down to see the mess he had made of the man's inside's completely healed. That was annoying. "What are you?"

"Uninterested in answering a demon's questions."

"Well I can't kill you, you can't kill me. Seems we're at an impasse," Dean said sliding his knife into the man's sternum and cutting him open again. He just rolled his eyes and healed himself again, looking even more annoyed. Then he disappeared. Dean blinked. "Well that's just cheating."

"I'm not a demon like you, if that's what you're thinking," came a voice from behind him. Dean whirled around narrowing his eyes.

"But you can disappear. Why haven't you run?"

"I'm not afraid of you. Even if you could manage to kill me. If I can take out as many of you sons of bitches as I can I'll be happy."

"Words like that, might hurt a guy's feelings," Dean said, never losing his carefree smirk. "Figured it out yet?" Dean asked next, referring to the man's examining gaze.

"Don't need to."

The man slammed his hand against Dean's forehead, a bright glow lighting up the dark alley. Dean felt energy fill him, burn him from the inside out, felt a scream being forced from his borrowed body. When it was over he fell to his knees, gasping.

"Neat trick. I guess this means you're winning," Dean said when he could finally breathe again. The man snorted with frustration. Then his eyes went wide with realization.

"Knight. You're a fucking Knight, I thought we'd killed all you bastards ages ago."

"We? Dude, how old are you twenty six? Dean muttered before realizing what this meant. "Wait. You're an angel? Really?"

The man nodded his acknowledgement.

"Doesn't God have any standards anymore?" Dean asked.

"Why don't you go fuck yourself?"

"You're just sulking because you can't kill me. Must suck to know that you can't even get it up for one pesky little demon."

"You're immortal, you ass."

"And it feels good too."

Dean was feeling the restless urge to move again. Clearly nothing was coming out of this exchange, so he made his way off.

"Where do you think you're going?" the man asked, blocking his path.

"I'm bored. I think I'm going to go terrorize the town. See you around."

Dean tried to walk past before he found himself stuck in the Devil's Trap that had probably been drawn when the angel had disappeared.

"Asshole," he said, glaring at the angel.

"I think you'll have trouble terrorizing anyone when you're buried in cement," the angel said. Then he left, and Dean started trying to figure out a way out. Then a very tall man came up to him and put a knife against his neck.

"Can I help you?"

The man didn't respond, only slid his knife in deep. Hands already moving to catch Dean and pick his pockets. Dean pretended to sag before twisting around.

"Surprise! Not dead," he said. The man jumped, then his eyes showed intense focus.

"Interesting," he said softly. He caught sight of the Devil's Trap and smudged it. Dean had him a the mercy of his knife within seconds.

"Thanks for that. And thanks for volunteering as entertainment for tonight. You really shouldn't have."

"How long did it take to become a demon?"

"What?"

"Just curious."

"A long time. Lot's of pain and suffering. You'll probably find out soon enough."

The man sighed and pulled out a gun and shot Dean through the head with the Colt. Dean healed it with a pissy sigh. Couldn't he just have a nice normal kidnapping and torture with someone? What was it with these weirdos he kept finding?

"Huh. Still not dead."

"Nope," Dean responded, popping the p. "But you're about to be."

"Do you want the Campbells riding your ass for the next few years? Because if so, by all means go ahead."

Dean lowered his knife and sighed. He'd heard of the Campbells in hell. They stuck to a cause like glue, and Dean did want to stay under the radar right now. Sure he didn't have much to fear from humans, but why get a bunch of pissed of hunters on your case when you'd rather be out having a good time.

"You going to stop me from cutting people up too?" he muttered angrily. There was that intense focus again.

"Can I see?" he asked. Dean stared.

"What?"

"I'm curious."

Dean shrugged. Might as well.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Sam."

"My name's Dean. And I will spend every second of our time together wanting to rip your throat out. That an issue?"

"I fail to see why it has to be."

"Then I think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship."

Dean let Sam pick the kid they cut up. He never stopped screaming.

"So that's what that looks like," Sam said when they were done. He had taken notes. Dean chuckled, kind of happy to show off.

"Yep."

"I always wondered. Do you think you can see how many times you can shoot a person before they die?"

Dean shrugged. He like knives.

"Probably not. Nothing's stopping you though."

"True," Sam said back. "But you're the demon."

"I may be a demon, but you're a freak. At least, I'm supposed to be like this."

Dean made his way to his car. He saw the cement truck sitting nearby and smiled to think of the look on the angel's face when he'd realized Dean had escaped. It was probably a lot like the face Dean made when he realized that the angel was sitting in his car waiting for him.

"Do not go with this man," the angel said urgently, suddenly popping into existence between Sam and Dean. "He is not who he appears to be."

Sam's eyes lit up.

"An altruistic demon. I've never seen that before," Sam said, looking at Dean. Dean gave an annoyed groan.

"Not a demon. Don't insult us. That asshole is an angel. I'm leaving. If you're coming, you're coming. If not, I don't give a shit."

Dean tried to start his meatsuit's car. The engine wouldn't go. Fucking angel. Dean snapped his fingers and started it easily, the engine fixed. He noticed Sam slip into the passenger side seat, and then he punched the accelerator. He checked his rearview mirror. The angel was in the backseat.

"If you don't promise not to injure people, I will kill your companion," the angel threatened. Dean just laughed.

"Go ahead."

The angel looked like he might for a second, but didn't, a kind of defeat on his face.

"You don't want to kill anything human do you?" Dean said with a smirk.

"It only matters that I will find a way to kill you."

"What's your name?" Sam cut in, interrupting the glare the demon and angel were holding.

The angel sat up straighter.

"I am Castiel, angel of the Lord."

Sam started taking notes again. Fucking nerd.

"If you're staying, you have to pay for gas," Dean said, addressing the angel.

"I don't have money."

"Guess you're not staying."

"I fail to see how you can make me leave. Until I figure out a way to kill you, I need to make sure you don't harm anyone."

"Too late for that," Dean taunted. The angel's eyes closed in silent grief. "He was about thirteen. I cut his tongue out, but I left his throat alone so I could hear him shout."

"I'm going to be sick," the angel said. And Dean liked him better like that. Upset and defeated. Maybe he wouldn't be so boring to have around after all.


	2. Guilty Victims

"Handcuffs, Cas? Really?"

"I still haven't found a way to kill you and you've banished me three times in the past week."

Cas sent an annoyed glare at Sam who had found the sigil in a book and tested it out to see if it worked. Without warning Castiel first. Or caring that it was an unpleasant experience. Then his eyes once again met Dean's.

"You were being annoying."

"I was stopping you from killing people!"

"Like I said. Annoying."

Sam just laughed and took notes.

"Sammy the psycho, what are you laughing at?" Dean asked.

"Oh don't mind me. Continue. You two should have a sitcom."

"Murdering people isn't funny," Castiel said.

"You're right. It's hilarious," Dean responded. Castiel decided he'd had enough and tapped Dean on the forehead to send him to sleep.

"He's going to be pissed when he wakes up," Sam pointed out.

"I don't care."

Cas pulled out a joint and breathed a sigh of relief. It had been way too long since he'd relaxed. He should knock Dean unconscious more often.

"What's your tolerance?" Sam asked.

"Too damn high," Cas said back.

"Out of curiosity, why aren't there more angels helping to take down Dean? You make it seem like heaven likes smiting evil things."

" Besides their intense dislike of me, there is the small matter of nobody wanting to die."

"So it is possible for Dean to kill you."

"Not currently."

"He just needs the right weapon," Sam concluded. Cas sighed.

"Are you going to tell him that?"

Sam shrugged.

"If it comes up."

"Wonderful," Castiel muttered, buzz completely ruined. Being resurrected was annoying at the best of times. If Dean found out that he could kill him and he would come back, his life would be a living hell.

Later that day, Cas found out that Dean was very good at picking locks. And then he found himself handcuffed to a pole.

"Not so fun now, is it angel?"

"Sam if you let me out, I'll show you my wings," Castiel said, knowing it would work.

Sam started to go forward. Dean stopped him.

"Dude, I just handcuffed him. Let him sweat a little."

Sam snorted.

"We both know you're going to let him out eventually, because, despite what you say, you like having him around and you enjoy offending him. You're not going to leave him tied to this pole, you just want to make him think you're going to leave him tied to this pole. It's your demonic way of showing affection. Since we've now agreed this exercise is completely worthless, I'm going to let him go because I want to see his wings."

Dean processed through everything Sam had just said. Then he crossed his arms.

"What happened to bros before hos?"

Sam ignored that statement and let Cas go. Cas held his end of the bargain. Sam was fascinated and immediately started trying to figure out the metaphysical implications of Castiel's wings.

Nerd. Nosy little bastard. He was always asking the two of them questions.

"Can you feel pain?" Sam had asked Cas and Dean once. Both had nodded.

"Can you feel emotions?"

"I guess," hazarded Dean. Castiel just shrugged.

"What kind of things can you do?"

"Teleportation. Minor trickery. That kind of shit," Dean said.

"Angels are relatively the same."

And so on and so on, until Dean threatened to murder him or Castiel just started staring into space and ignoring them both. Castiel mostly spent his time devising methods to stop Dean from killing innocent bystanders, which he was mostly successful at. Sam suspected it was because Dean found the angel entertaining and wasn't trying that hard. When Sam and Dean discovered Castiel had no problem with them killing or torturing monsters and demons, it was all over. Dean had grinned at the idea of the challenge and Sam had immediately concurred that it would be an excellent opportunity to further his knowledge on monsters.

"I think I'll write a book," Sam said one day, after he had watched Dean dissect a vampire.

"You're a fucking nerd, you know that?" Dean had said back. Castiel had stood silently, still just making sure that neither the strangely immoral human or the Knight of Hell went after innocent humans.


	3. Deals? What Deals?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley Immediately Gets Shot Down for a Deal

It didn’t take long for them to build up a reputation. Dean blamed Cas for that, since Cas was the one who spoke with people who survived ghost and monster attacks and gave them information about what to do in the future should more monsters appear. Which meant that even though they left no supernatural survivors behind to spread tales, it got around that something was after anything big, mean, and scary.

Of course, the demons didn’t take long to figure out who exactly was behind everything, considering only one Knight of Hell had escaped recently.

There was a civil war in hell at the moment, with supporters of Lucifer, who Castiel assured Dean and Sam was very real, arguing against some asshole named Crowley. Dean had heard of Crowley in between sessions of being cut to ribbons, but didn’t know much more than his name. Cas on the other hand was clearly annoyed every time he was brought up. Needless to say, he became a constant topic of conversation, and Dean made sure to ask about him every time they tortured a demon.

Which might have been a bad decision considering now Crowley was under the impression he was working for Lucifer’s side, but Dean couldn’t really give a shit.

It was a good day when he visited and Dean didn’t even feel like murdering people, so he let Crowley talk instead of attacking. Cas was using the silver blade he carried to cut off his fingernails. Dean suspected he was doing it to threaten Crowley since the fingernails kept growing back so he could do it again.

“I have a proposition for you three,” the demon began. “If you’re willing to listen.”

“I don’t deal with demons,” Cas said instantly. Crowley smirked at him.

“In any case,” Crowley said. “I was speaking to the knight and the soulless man, not the ditzy angel.”

“Eh, pass,” Dean said.

“You haven’t even heard my offer,” Crowley pointed out.

“Cas doesn’t like you. It’s like when you have a dog, and they don’t like someone new, you know what I mean? I don’t want to deal with his whining, and I’m doing fine on my own so…”

“Do you have any idea how little Lucifer will care for our lives should he get free? Castiel, you’ve already derailed the Cage opening once. Do you want your hard work to be for nothing because you’ve become some demon’s pet?”

Cas threw his knife pinning Crowley’s hand to the wall, and he appeared in front of him in the next second, eyes narrowed.

“I belong to no one Crowley. And I certainly don’t belong to you. You’ve been a help to me in the past, so I won’t kill you now, but I would suggest you leave before I change my mind. Understood?”

Crowley nodded and Cas twisted his knife, causing a yelp of pain from Crowley before Cas pulled it out of his hand. The next moment Crowley was gone.

Dean whistled.

“Hey Cas, you’re kind of hot when you go all avenging angel.”

Cas ignored him and disappeared. Dean turned to Sam.

“You think I could get him to fuck me?”

“Probably, I’ve been keeping track of one night stands, and right now you and him are tied for second place, so it’s not like he’s celibate.”

“Who’s in first? You?” Dean said, disbelieving.

“Yep.”

“How the fuck is that possible? According to Crowley, you don’t even have a soul, why would anyone sleep with you?”

Sam smirked.

“I may not have a soul, but at least I’m not constantly mooning over an angel, so I guess I have that going for me.”

“I don’t moon over Cas.”

“I have a whole page here where I time every instance of the two of you staring at each other without even saying anything.”

“Okay, Sam, don’t be surprised when I burn your stupid book of notes.”

“Oh, that’s okay, I type everything up and back it up on the internet just in case.”

Dean resisted the urge to kill Sam, reminding himself that he did actually like the irksome little shit sometimes. Then again, he was starting to feel kind of wrathful.

But right at that moment Cas came back so Dean just stabbed him a couple of times instead. Everybody wins.


	4. Angels are Dicks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You could say major character death, but Cas is pretty much going through a revolving door with the afterlife so it's impermanent enough to be regarded as harmful as a cut.

Apparently angels don’t like Cas.

“Hey, assholes, want to let me out of here?” Dean asked cheerfully. He hated Devil’s traps. They fucking sucked. Good news was he’d locked himself into his new meat suit so the exorcism the angels tried to use didn’t take. Fucking amateurs.

“Silence, demon,” one of them said. The one who was a bigger dick than the rest. Cas had called him Zachariah, which sounded like a pretentious enough name for the bastard. Dean rolled his eyes and started humming Stairway to Heaven.

Apparently angels don’t appreciate humor, because one of them tried to stab him before he bit off a chunk of their arm. Further stabbing attempts on him were postponed after this, since even though the angel was perfectly capable of healing itself, it decided whining like a baby was a solid choice first. This was especially great because Cas was currently being strung up and tortured and had yet to yell out, even though last count he was missing two fingers and one eye so far.

“You think you can leave the Host, Castiel,” Zachariah said, emphasizing his words with another cut. Cas jerked but kept silent, mouth shut so tight Dean could hear his teeth grinding together. “And pal around with some demon and there would be no consequences?”

“Excuse me, I’m not just some demon, you asshole!” Dean yelled. “And you’re doing that all wrong. I mean, Jesus Christ, who the fuck taught you to torture?”

Cas started laughing at that, shutting his mouth quickly again when Zachariah cut another slice into his stomach.

“I don’t think Castiel finds my methods insufficient,” Zachariah said to Dean.

“That’s cause you guys don’t know any better. Trust me, I could teach you to take everything to a whole new level of pain.”

“Could you now?” Zachariah laughed. “Alright, show us how you would cut up your pet angel.”

Dean grinned.

“Let me out first.”

“Not a chance.”

“No risk, no reward.”

“You think you’re being clever, but you’re transparent as glass. We know Castiel has been using you as one of his whores, demon scum,” spat Zachariah. Dean wiggled his eyebrows.

“Has my name been getting around on angel bathroom walls?” Dean asked. “Sorry to break it to you, but the rumors of promiscuity have been greatly exaggerated.”

“Did you really just quote Emma Stone while I’m being tortured?” Castiel asked through gritted teeth. “Couldn’t you have gone with something in Latin? Or at least a philosopher?”

“Just keeping it classy, Cas,” Dean said with a wink. Zachariah ignored the exchange and satisfied his irritation by stabbing his blade through Castiel’s shoulder so he was pinned to the wall, at long last getting a cry of pain. Zachariah grinned.

“Trust me, Castiel, this is only the beginning. When we bring you back to Heaven, we will break you down and make you new again, and every second of it will be agony.”

Dean sat on the ground looking bored. Once the angels got back to enjoying the looks of pain on Cas’ face he bit his wrist and used the blood to start drawing. Nobody noticed. Dean finished the symbol and sent Cas a smile, holding up his bloody wrist. Cas let his head fall back in relief, confusing the angels surrounding him until Dean slammed his palm down and they all scattered in a bright burst of light.

“Sam!” Dean yelled. “Could you let me out?”

Sam scurried from where he had been hiding and likely taking notes on angel torture techniques. He spray painted over the edge of the Devil’s trap, and Dean walked out and stretched, even though he didn't really need to.

“Man, those guys are dicks. I thought they’d all be like Cas. Idealistic do gooding weirdos.”

“I guess not,” Sam said. “I wrote down all of their names and made notes on them. I’ll have to ask Cas about each of them.”

“Who are worse, angels or demons?” Dean asked. Sam shrugged.

“I find demons more tolerable on the whole, but I haven’t collected sufficient data to answer accurately.”

“Yeah, okay Mr. Roboto, I’m going to go figure out where Cas got blasted off to. Be back in a sec.”

Cas got sent to Australia. Of course he did.

The next time they ran into angels, they didn’t bother trying to tie Cas up and torture him. About four rushed at him at once, and while he took two of them out, a third stabbed him through the chest, killing him. Needless to say, Dean tortured and killed the two remaining angels in such a horrific manner that word spread through hell and he and Sam started to get god damn groupies. Of course, killing your fans tends to curb their urge to try to follow and learn from you.

Dean was spending another night in a bar, singing bad karaoke when Sam finally decided the only way they were going to get back to doing anything interesting is if he attempted to talk to Dean about his feelings. Sam sighed. He didn’t understand feelings. Other people cared so much. It sounded exhausting.

“Dean?” Sam asked. Dean looked up and offered Sam a beer which he took. “Do we need to talk about Cas?”

“No.”

“You seem upset is all.”

“Fuck angels is all I got to say about that,” Dean said back, finishing his beer in one long swig.

“It just seems like you care a lot. And when you get really drunk, you sing sappy love songs. And you’ve wrote ‘fuck angel bastards’ on every church we’ve passed.”

“So? Is that not normal behavior for me?”

Sam stared at him.

“No.”

“Look, Sammy, I’m just trying to have a good time. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

There was something wrong with him. After the fifth night in a row that Dean had gotten drunk enough to sing, despite the groans from people who went to the bar to have a good time, Sam decided enough was enough. He knew just what would cheer Dean up.

“Dean, I picked out a guy for you. He’s all tied up in the warehouse on 89,” Sam said. Dean looked up interested. “Think about it. When’s the last time you killed someone innocent?”

Dean considered.

“Too damn long,” Dean said disappearing. Sam gave himself a pat on the back for a job well done, then hurried to drive to the warehouse so he could take notes.

Meanwhile, at the warehouse, Dean was standing in front of the man Sam had picked out considering where to start when he heard a deep, angry voice from behind him.

“I’m gone a few days and you’re already killing innocents?”

Dean whirled around, unable to believe his ears.

“You’re dead.”

“Was dead,” Castiel corrected. “It never seems to stick. Are you going to let that man go, Dean?”

Dean smirked, holding the knife against the man’s neck.

“Wasn’t gonna.”

Castiel disappeared and reappeared next to Dean, stealing the knife from his hand.

“Don’t,” he said. Dean let a wide smile cross his face and then he hugged the angel.

“I missed you being all annoying and moral. Who else am I going to piss off?” Dean said, casually breaking the man’s neck with a twist of his fingers. Cas pushed Dean away roughly and touched the man, fixing his neck and then taking him back to his home before returning to Dean.

“If you ever do that again, I will-“

“What? Tell me off? Babe, you do that all the time already.”

“You make me wish I was still dead so I wouldn’t have to babysit you’re sorry ass. To think I thought I could mean anything to you. I thought that maybe you wouldn’t go back to the way you were if I was gone,” Cas said, pacing back and forth and glaring at Dean every few seconds.

“Guess that makes you pretty dumb, huh, Cas,” Dean teased. “You can’t reform a demon, idiot.”

“No,” Cas said, throwing a punch that had Dean hitting the wall hard. “You can’t.”

Dean stared at Cas for a moment, shocked, before he started laughing, spitting out blood before he healed himself.

“God, I missed you Cas.”

“Shut up.”

“So fucking much. I cut up those angels that killed you real bad.”

“I said shut up,” Cas growled turning his back on Dean. The demon smirked and materialized in front of him. He ducked his head slightly catching Cas’ eyes, and holding them with ease.

“I made them hurt for what they did to you.”

Cas raised his eyebrows at Dean, anger clear in the set of his face.

“What? Am I supposed to appreciate that you’ve tortured my siblings? Am I supposed to thank you?”

“I know you won’t,” Dean chuckled back. “But you’d still never leave me. Even when you’re dead you come back. What can I say man? I appreciate the consistency.”

“I stay so you can’t harm those who don’t deserve it.”

“Is that the only reason?” Dean asked, eyes flicking black. “You don’t like Sammy and me? Even a little?”

“Fuck you,” Cas said back, before stalking off toward the door, Dean following behind him at an easy pace. Sam ran in breathless before he saw Cas.

“I thought you died.”

“Apparently God got bored and sent me back so he could continue to enjoy my torment.”

“Cas missed us,” Dean said in a sing song voice. “He just doesn’t want to admit it.”

Cas groaned and looked toward Sam. “Please tell me you have alcohol.”

“Yep,” Sam said back, adjusting easily. He was nothing if not flexible. Besides, this solved his problem of Dean’s moping easily enough. The demon already had a wide grin on his face that Sam suspected wasn’t going away any time soon.

Plus, Cas was a little less stuck up when he was drunk and Sam wasn’t surprised that somehow he and Dean ended up sat next to each other drinking despite Cas’ supposed anger at Dean. They always seemed to forgive the other very quickly.

Sam decided if they were going to be drunk idiots the rest of the night he might as well go and pick up a girl for the night. There had been a hooker back at the karaoke bar that Sam had had his eye on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do people feel about adding juvenile delinquent Claire to fucked up Team Free Will?


	5. Chapter 5

”Cas, can you try to stop pissing people off?” Dean said as Castiel pulled out a knife from his front and the angry blonde girl who attacked looked on, unimpressed. Not for the first time, Cas ignored Dean.

“Claire,” Cas said, voice uncertain. Dean raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, asshole it’s me. You know I’ve been looking for you? A really long time, too. Since right after my mom got her throat slit by a demon. You remember that, don’t you Castiel?”

“There was nothing I could have done, Claire,” Cas insisted. Claire looked away, clearly upset but not letting it for a second get the better of her.

“I got questions,” Dean said. “First one: what’s with the hair kid? You look worse than Sam.”

“I don’t have feelings, Dean,” Sam pointed out. “I don’t know what you think you’re accomplishing by insulting my hair.”

“Wasn’t talking to you Sammy,” Dean said before materializing behind Claire and grabbing her by the throat. “I was talking to blondie here, but I got bored, so…”

“Dean, if you touch a hair on her head, so help me god, I will draw Devil’s traps everywhere you go for the rest of your existence,” Cas growled. Dean rolled his eyes and let Claire go. “Thank you. Claire, you need to leave. What are you doing here?”

Claire swallowed hard, wondering whether or not she should tell the truth. Then she figured fuck it, the plan hadn’t worked anyway.

“Someone told me that the knife would send you out without hurting the vessel too bad if I stabbed in the right spot. Figured it was worth a shot. You’ve been wearing my dad, what, ten years now?” Claire spat. “You said you needed to save the world, well the world was fucking saved right? When were you going to let him go, you lying piece of-“

“Claire,” Castiel said gently, interrupting Claire’s shouting. Claire fell silent, staring at Castiel with a mixture of hate and hope in her eyes. “I had planned to give up this vessel. I truly had.” Cas looked away for a moment before meeting Claire’s eyes again. “I’m sorry, but Jimmy’s dead. If I were to leave, there wouldn’t be anything left inside this body.”

A huge sob wracked through Claire’s body and she fell to her knees.

“No! No, you’re lying. You’re a fucking liar.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas said again, not knowing if he should try to comfort her somehow. “Your father’s soul is in heaven, of that I can reassure you.”

“Fuck you,” Claire said, pushing herself up. She hesitated, then she spoke again, vulnerable hope evident even through her derision. “Can you bring him back?”

“No.”

Claire was silent after that, staring ahead in grief. Dean cleared his throat.

“Okay, then. So we’re going to go. Good luck, kiddo. Get a better hairdresser. Sam, pass me the keys.”

Sam threw Dean the keys and the two of them started walking toward the car. Castiel did not follow.

“Cas, you coming?” Dean said at last, noticing the angel was still staring at the crying girl on the floor.

“I’m not just going to leave her here Dean,” Cas said quietly. Dean took out his gun and shot Claire.

“There you go. Let’s leave.”

Cas healed Claire and had pinned Dean to the wall within a fraction of a second. Dean did his best to look bored in order to annoy Cas.

“I am not leaving this place until I can confirm that Claire is taken care of,” Cas said grimly, taking out the handcuffs whose locks he had secretly changed to make them harder to pick. “Since you seem to have no impulse control, perhaps these can replace your deficiency.”

“Honestly, Cas, I think you just like seeing me in chains,” Dean said. Claire looked up, blatant fury in her eyes. Dean got an idea and smiled at her. “Hey Claire, wanna make a deal?”

“No,” Cas said, undoing his tie and shoving it in Dean’s mouth. “Sam, can you take Dean?”

“Uh, no?” Sam said. “In case you’ve forgotten, you both are like way stronger than me. I’m not getting involved in your fights.”

“I need to speak with Claire.”

“How about I speak with Claire and you go and take care of Dean or whatever it is you crazy kids do,” Sam said evenly. Claire glared at him and he waved at her.

“You don’t have a soul. How could anything you have to say be beneficial?” Cas asked. Dean had started kicking him in the shin, and he found his focus and temper starting to waver.

“Just because I don’t have a soul, doesn’t mean I can’t empathize with poor Claire’s situation.”

“Actually, that’s exactly what it means.” Dean had switched strategies of annoying Cas by thinking at him loudly. Cas did his best to ignore him, but found Dean’s thoughts both unwelcome and incredibly distracting. “Shut up Dean,” Cas snarled. Dean finally managed to spit out his tie, which had been ripped to shreds.

“I didn’t say anything, angel. Hey Claire, was your mom as hot as your dad? Because Cas chose a nice body. Not as nice as mine, but hey, I don’t have to ask permission.”

“He’s a demon?” Claire asked voice going flat. “You’re working with demons now? I thought they were the enemy, Castiel?”

Sam smiled at Cas benignly and made a motion that indicated he should fly away. Cas took Dean with him to ensure he didn’t try to further upset Claire.

“So, Claire,” Sam started. Claire sneered at him. “I’m not a demon or an angel if that makes you feel better.”

“Apparently you also don’t have a soul, so not really,” Claire said, trying to get her voice back under control and wiping away any loose tears. “So are you assholes going to kill me or what?”

“Do you want to die?” Sam asked.

“No. Yes. Fuck, I don’t know. Do you want to die? I mean, you don’t have a soul right? You don’t care about anything, is that what that does. Well call me soulless too, because my mom and dad are the only things I care about, and both of them are gone. What’s the point in even existing when you don’t care about getting up in the morning.”

“I don’t know. Food and sex are appealing,” Sam said with a shrug. “I mean, you care about not caring, I guess. I don’t care that I don’t care, so I’m good with me right now. I used to think something was wrong with me, and then I found out I was right. But it didn’t matter.”

“You don’t care about anything? Anyone?”

“Nope.”

“Okay,” Claire said, considering. “Kill Castiel.”

“Eh, no thanks. If I do that, Dean will get pissed and mopey again, and I don’t really want to have to defend myself until Cas comes back to life again,” Sam met Claire’s disbelief with a smile. “Yeah, he does that. But if you really want to hurt Cas, y’know what you should do?”

“What?”

“Play on his sympathies. He’s dying to take care of you. He clearly feels guilty. Use it against him. It’ll be easy.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Claire asked.

“Because Dean doesn’t do psychological torture and Cas won’t let me because apparently he likes Dean better.”

“Yeah,” Claire said bitterly. “I can see how much he likes him better. That’s not his fucking body.”

“Is now,” Sam points out.

“Yeah, is now. So I gotta ask, why the fuck do you think I would agree to come with you?”

“Do you have anywhere else to go?” Sam asked. Claire looked away. “Didn’t think so.

“Fine,” Claire said eventually. “But just because Castiel shouldn’t get to forget me so easily. I’m going to be a thorn in his side until the day I die. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to make sure that angel remembers James and Amelia Novak for the rest of his pathetic fucking life.”

“Okay, cool. I call shot gun,” Sam said before walking out to the car. Claire picked herself up and followed, hating herself for going but knowing she’d hate herself more for wasting any opportunity to make Castiel pay for what he’d done to her.


	6. Demons are Dicks Too

”A little help Claire?” Castiel asked, staring at the circle of fire he was currently trapped in. Claire looked at Sam, who was currently fighting demons and seemed to weigh her own safety over whether or not it was worth leaving Cas forever in a ring of fire. Self preservation barely won out and Claire set off the sprinklers, letting Cas get out and kill the surrounding demons that Crowley had sent. Sam was about to stab the last one when she fell at his feet and started begging for her life.

“Please don’t kill me!” she said. “I’ll do anything, I swear.”

“That right?” Dean asked, his voice drawling. “Stay still sweetheart, and maybe we’ll let you go.”

That was Cas’ cue to teleport Claire away. Claire pushed the angel away so he wasn’t touching her anymore, glaring at him.

“I know what they do when you send me away, you know that right?”

“I am aware, but I still don’t think you’d enjoy watching.”

“I don’t enjoy anything, Castiel. you took that all away from me.”

Claire did enjoy the look of pure misery that crossed Castiel’s face, actually, but that was pretty much it.

“Do you enjoy it Cas?” Claire asked, feeling vindictive. “Seeing your demon boyfriend rip things open? That what gets you going, you sick fuck?”

Cas grit his teeth at that, but did not raise a hand to harm the girl. He knew of course that he owed her anything she could ask from him. He owed her more than he could ever give her, so he didn’t say a word to defend himself, knowing that she needed to rail against him. He could only offer her understanding.

“No, I forgot, you’ll spread your legs for anyone. Guess you forgot that’s not your body you’re using.”

Claire wanted Castiel to yell. To say something. He stood there silent, but not defeated. Not broken. Not like she was. He reminded her of her father so much, the silent storm of steel will that bent to no one. She needed to see him crumble, needed to see the crooked angel that had taken everything she loved from her. She reached out and hit him, breaking her hand in the process.

“Claire,” Cas said gently as she cursed and shook her hand. “Let me fix that.”

Claire let him touch her hand and then stalked off knowing Cas could find her anytime he wanted anyway. He didn’t follow her. A few hours later, Claire felt a cool touch on her shoulder and she was back with Sam and Dean. The demon was still alive and was following Sam like he was the reason the sun rose and set.

“Claire, this is Ruby. If she hurts you, just let me know so I can kill her,” Sam said casually. The girl flinched but stayed close to Sam. Dean seemed unhappy with the development, but his expression cleared as soon as he saw Castiel and Claire wanted to puke at the look of pure affection the monster that was Dean sent Cas’ way. Even possessed as her father’s body was, she couldn’t help her protective instincts towards it, and every instinct screamed that Dean was dangerous, and deeply wrong.

It was weeks later that Ruby was killed by another demon. Dean grinned secretly, and Sam could care less. The Ruby incident would be fairly unremarkable if it weren’t for the fact that she had spent every spare moment she had to extol the virtues of Lucifer and talk about how she was a double agent. Sam listened and took notes, and Ruby seemed to think she was getting somewhere with him, likely forgetting the simple fact that Sam cared for no one. He had three people he wouldn’t hurt, and that was Dean because he was a source of entertainment, Cas because Dean was less entertaining when Cas was injured— unless Dean was the one doing the injuring— and Claire because Cas would hurt him if he did so. Ruby was not on the protected list and yet she still looked betrayed as Sam left her to be cut up by a demon named Meg without so much as an attempt to save her.

Meg proved much smarter and meaner then Ruby and was persistent in her pursuit of Sam, Dean, and Cas’ attention. Especially Cas’, Claire noticed. The demon held the angel’s gaze the way Dean did, and Claire noticed that each time they re-encountered her, Dean became more and more aggressive towards her, especially since Castiel refused as he usually did to assist in the capture for torture of demons and Meg was too clever to be killed.

Meg was smart and realized Claire was a weak spot by default since the rest of the group was either too powerful for her to engage with beyond taunting words or soulless and uncaring, and therefor immune to torture. It was easier to kidnap Claire than it should have been, of course, since Claire was constantly escaping from wherever she was because Sam Campbell was the only person whose company she could stand. If not empathetic, he at least wasn’t a ‘wavelength of celestial intent’ inhabiting her dead father’s body or a cloud of black smoke in someone else’s body that clearly wanted to do gross things to said dead father’s body. Claire realized from looking through Sam’s notes that nothing had happened, but wasn’t really comforted considering that she also learned the very disturbing and varied methods Dean had of torturing monsters. Sam’s notes on how Dean had cut up two angels who had killed Castiel had sent Claire to the motel bathroom, where she had puked, and stayed by the toilet for two hours trying to forget what she had read. She had sworn off reading for a while after that, but having little else to do, simply skipped through instead.

And now Claire had the feeling she was about to become intimately familiar with exactly how a demon cut someone up. Meg straddled her and Claire tilted as far back from the demon as she could.

“Darling, don’t be that way,” Meg said, voice low and unsettling. Claire didn’t say a word. She’d met demons before, and she knew all they wanted was fear. She would show none, even if she felt the tremors running through her body, her face would stay still. She’d had enough practice hiding. “I just want to see you. Know where to start. Where’s that tattoo of yours? I know you have one.”

Claire said nothing. A deep gash was cut into her cheek. Unconsciously, Claire called out within her mind, not realizing until a moment later who she had called for in her moment of pain until a deep voice sounded behind her.

“Let her go, Meg.”

“Clarence, my angel. Nice of you to join us.”

Meg smiled and Claire could feel the heat of flames behind her before a second had passed. Angels were fucking useless.

“What are you going to do now, you impotent sap?” Meg asked, leaning forward so her entire body was pressed against Claire and she could look over Claire’s shoulder at the angel.

“What do you want, Meg?” Cas asked, sounding tired. Meg’s weight was suddenly gone. Claire saw out of the corner of her eye that the demon was standing just outside the ring of fire, circling slowly.

“What don’t I want? I’m here to on behalf of Lucifer, of course. He wants you Castiel. Your family sent you away, but he’ll take you, like he takes all lost souls.”

Meg called another demon, who walked up to Claire and gripped her hair and pulled her head back, exposing her throat. Meg stepped carefully inside the ring of fire.

“I’d stay still now, Clarence. This guy’s a little trigger happy, and I wouldn’t want your little kiddie to bite it because daddy couldn’t control his homicidal impulses.”

“He is not my father,” Claire grit out, gasping as the knife made a thin line on her neck. She shut up quickly. Suddenly her chair was turned around so she could see Meg standing beside Castiel, standing close enough to make Claire bristle. Meg noticed and smirked, clearly having intended to get such a reaction. Meg licked Castiel’s neck from collar to chin, and Castiel stayed perfectly still, his eyes on Claire begging her forgiveness. Claire suddenly got an idea and pretended to faint, praying simultaneously to Castiel to act.

Claire heard the disgusted snort of the demon guarding her, followed by the scream of a demon and the smell of burning flesh and then arms wrapped around her, her father’s arms and Claire couldn’t feel anything but safe, even if the sound of wings reminded her that the creature protecting her was not in fact her dad.

“I’m so sorry Claire. I should have watched you better,” Castiel said, letting her go. Claire longed for her father to hold her again, but knew that Cas wasn’t him, would never be him and felt the angry tears fall down her face. “Claire—“

“It’s fine, Cas,” she spat. “Just fine. You know, maybe you should get yourself checked out by God. It’s not normal to have so many demons obsessed with you.”

Cas didn’t say anything but sat down, far enough from Claire to avoid appearing to have any kind of familiarity, but close enough to provide a kind of distant companionship. Claire knew he did it for her comfort but still hated him for playing both sides like this, making her crave what she had lost while hating him for not being quite right.

“He hasn’t answered the phone in a few millennia,” Cas started. “But I’ll be sure to ask if he ever comes back.”

“You miss him?” Claire asked, feeling the tears slide down her face again. God, she hated crying.

“Desperately,” Cas said. He reached out and gently touched her shoulder and Claire felt the skin on her face knit back together and felt her cheek, smooth once again. “But Claire, your father would be here with you if he could. The love he had for you and your mother was such a large part of him. The brightest spot of his soul.”

“Don’t do that,” Claire said. “Don’t act like he was special. He was a regular guy. Just a guy. I was some kid and my mom and dad fought sometimes but liked each other a lot and we went to church and I was going to grow up and do nothing and my dad was going to be so fucking proud of that. Don’t act like our little version of love is somehow so great. You don’t care. You don’t know. You don’t know anything.”

“I didn’t have a childhood to compare to yours, you’re right about that,” Cas said. “I was always a soldier. And I’ve made mistakes, many of which have hurt you, but Claire trust me when I say I can recognize exceptional love when I see it, and your father had it for you. I don’t say this to make you feel better, I say it because it’s undeniably true. That I promise you.”

“Fuck that then,” Claire said bitterly, tucking her knees into her chest. “Because if you love someone that much, you should get to stay. It’s not fair that you get to live and he doesn’t.”

“You’re right,” Cas said simply. Claire didn’t speak for a while, curling in tighter as the air got colder. She felt the weight of something on her shoulders and realized Castiel had draped her father’s coat across her shoulders before returning to his seat.

“You don’t get cold?” Claire asked. Cas shook his head. “You feel anything the way we do?”

“I’m not sure Claire. I enjoy drugs, food, sex, as I’m sure you’ve gathered. I’m not sure I enjoy them for the same reasons. I don’t know what being human means.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Claire said. “Have you ever loved someone the way my dad did? Exceptional, or whatever?”

Claire wanted with all her heart for him to say no, because she knew just who it would be.

“No,” Cas said, but Claire knew it was a lie.

“You don’t have my permission if that’s what you’re waiting for,” Claire said before walking back into the motel where Dean had been setting up more tattoos to protect her. All the while he tattooed her he made vague threats of what exactly Meg could expect if she were to try something again and Sam kept track of repeats and ranked the threats in order of how scary they actually were. Cas came in toward the end and loosened Claire’s grip on the edge of the desk so she could squeeze his hand.

After this, the two came to a kind of understanding that neither in any real sense of the word understood, but Claire no longer tried to verbally assault Castiel quite so much, so the angel considered it a quiet victory for trying to make amends towards the girl.


	7. Heads Up

”They grow up so fast,” Dean said, watching Claire decapitate her first vampire. “Cas you should take a picture.”

“Duck,” Cas said simply, swinging his silver sword right where Dean’s head had just been, another vamp’s head landing on the floor with a thud. It wasn’t really the type of knife meant for such things, but with angelic strength is was not difficult to separate flesh and bone.

“Good job, Claire,” Dean said offering up his hand for a high five. Claire raised an eyebrow, spit out some blood from having been hit, and ignored his hand. Dean shrugged and gave her a wink anyway. Sam busied himself piling the bodies together so they could burn them.

“This what you’ve been doing since whatever happened in heaven happened?” Claire said, ignoring Dean in favor of Cas. She usually only deigned to talk to Sam but she had thawed to Cas considerably recently, especially after hearing that her father had died when Cas himself had been killed the first time.

“Essentially.”

“I guess that’s something,” Claire said. She didn’t ask Cas to heal her and hadn’t for a while. She didn’t like the way scars disappeared from her skin. It felt like part of her was erased every time it happened, so she only asked his help if something was really broken. She liked the ache of a hard fight sometimes, one of the reasons she’d adjusted fairly well to hunting. She was no stranger to using her fists to make a point and had successfully run away from various foster homes and lived on the streets since she was fourteen.

“How’d you get the way you are?” Claire asked. Dean smirked at finally being directly addressed. He suspected it was because of the attempted high five.

“Made a deal,” Dean said easily. “Would have gone anyway, though.”

“What did you ask for, a couple of extra inches?” Claire asked with a snort.

“It’s funny you mention because I know a demon who did…” Cas said with a chuckle. Claire looked at him incredulously, but Cas’ expression seemed to have convinced her he was telling the truth. “What did you make a deal for, Dean?”

Dean shrugged.

“Who remembers? Probably a kitten stuck up a tree or something. Regular people,” he said, pointing to Claire. “Are sappy, and do shit like that.”

“Alright, sorry I asked,” Claire responded. “Must be pretty embarrassing if you won’t tell us. Cas, you think he sold his soul on a dare? What were you before, a frat boy?”

“Yep, you got me,” Dean said. “Nah, I was a hunter. Well sort of. It’s complicated. But all that, that’s behind me. Now, I’m a god damn demon, and I couldn't be happier.”

“I think you mean damned,” Sam supplied.

“Yeah, well at least I have a soul to be damned in the first place,” Dean shot back.

“Am I supposed to be jealous?” Sam asked. “You guys are all over the place all the time. Claire was listening to a song the other day on the radio and started crying. Any time Cas wanders off, you get all weird and angry. I think I’m okay with being like this.”

“Yeah, alright, Sammy, nobody cares. Go back to your corner and take notes, why don’t you.”

“You say that as though I’m supposed to be upset for being sent away, but that actually is exactly what I want to do, so—“

Sam walked off then and Claire went off to join him because she seemed to be able to stand his sense of humor. Dean wished for a little while that Sam wasn’t so breakable because he really would like to punch him sometimes, but shook it off because Sam would be no fun to beat up anyway.

“Why did you sell your soul?” Cas asked.

“How bad do you want to know?”

“To quote Sam, ‘just curious’.”

Dean laughed.

“Trade you. I’ll tell you if you tell me exactly what you did to stop whatever it is the angels are all so pissed about.”

“I killed someone and hid their atoms across various dimensions so that they couldn’t fulfill their destiny to open Lucifer’s cage.”

“And that’s why the angels hate you?”

“I didn’t follow orders. That makes me public enemy number one. You see, Dean, there are two interpretations of Lucifer’s story. The first one is that he was cast down for failing to bow to humans and recognizing them as superior, and the second one is the same with only the distinction that he had to be cast down not because he was wrong but because he didn’t follow orders. You understand why angels might disapprove of this my actions, no matter the intention, given this precedent. It is a philosophical debate regarding whether obedience to God’s plan or the value of human life is of more worth, and they believe I am on the wrong side of the debate.”

“Right. Well, sounds to me like they’re all a bunch of assholes, but whatever.”

“And you?” Castiel prompted.

“I was eighteen and my mom got sick,” Dean said. “Problem with being human is you feel terrible all the time. I didn’t really see the point in living after she died, you know? I was supposed to follow in my dad’s footsteps, do academic shit with his secret society club. Well, I said fuck that. At the time, a short life seemed like a gift. I had a limit, ten years to do whatever the fuck I wanted and my mom got to live. Got to doing some reckless shit after that. Felt freeing, you know?”

“But you had to go to hell,” Cas pointed out. Dean shrugged again and flashed a grin.

“Well, yeah, but it’s not like I really knew what that fucking meant. And I didn't really believe in heaven till I got down there. Good news for me was I learned the way things worked pretty quick in the pit. I held out, what thirty years?” Dean asked, trying to remember. “Then, then I figured out that it didn’t matter. You try to hurt people, they try to hurt you. You keep on keeping on, you get what I’m saying?”

“Unfortunately. I question hell’s purpose, honestly. It didn’t have to be.”

“And that is why you make crappy angel,” Dean said. “There you go questioning shit again.”

“What can I say?” Castiel said back. “That’s just the way I roll.”

Dean stared for a moment.

“Don’t ever say that again.”

Cas smiled.

“What you don’t dig? I thought my usage of human slang was quite groovy.”

“Don’t make me stab you Cas.”

“Don’t make me shove all the planets in the universe up your ass.”

“Okay, now that one you just got from Firefly.”

“You seem angry. Maybe you should shake it off, Dean.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at Cas. The angel knew they didn’t talk about the Taylor Swift incident. Ever.

“I’m leaving now. Don’t follow me.”

“As you wish,” Cas said before disappearing with a rush of wings to God knows where.

“Claire!” Dean shouted. “Next time you see Cas tell him he’s lame.”

“Sure thing,” Claire said back, eyes glued to Sam’s notes for the day. Sam’s notes on that particular day were both a review of their respective performances in killing vampires, including head counts, assists, and a rating for any moves Sam found to be particularly efficient. Claire was scowling slightly because she was ranked low in everything. Then Sam went to the next page and started tallying something.

“What’s that?”

“The amount of times Cas stared off into space during his and Dean’s conversation for no reason.”

“And what are these?”

“Oh, those are equations. I’m trying to calculate the probability of whether or not Dean and Cas’ arguments are eventually going to lead to sex or murder. It’s very complex.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Claire said back. “Don’t keep me updated on that. Please.”

“I might, I might not. I’ll make no promises. Or I can, but I feel no moral obligation to follow through, so it would be worthless.”

“Always nice talking to you Sam.”

“You know, I can tell when you’re being sarcastic.”

“What do you want? A cookie?”

“Hey kids, play nice,” Dean called from across the room where he had taken to throwing a knife at the wall, retrieving it using the force or whatever the fuck it was that demons used to do shit and throwing it to stick into the wall again.

When Cas showed up again, Claire declared that she was hungry and Dean ended up taking them all out to the bar he had promised, giving Claire a fake ID so she could get in. Claire didn’t actually get to drink any beer, because Cas turned anything she tried to drink into water, but she managed to convince him ketchup was a vegetable, so she figured you win some and you lose some.


	8. I'm Not Wrong, I Just Don't Understand

Claire and Sam ended up using the motel rooms most of the time. Claire, because unlike everybody else she actually needed to sleep (how Sam had gone so long without his family noticing that little quirk she’d never know) and Sam because Cas wanted someone to watch Claire at all times and he couldn’t do that if he was babysitting Dean. Claire was fairly certain that Dean purposefully told Cas he felt like torturing something so that Cas would stick around, but she was also pretty sure that if Cas took a night off, people would end up getting hurt. So Cas followed Dean around “to stop him from murdering people, Claire”, and Claire tried to sleep through the steady clacking of Sam typing up his notes from the day.

Some nights, Claire would read through what Sam had typed up and recently she had even taken to editing and adding slightly. Sam complained at first but later decided it was probably a good idea to have a “normal” perspective to everything that was happening. Claire was pretty sure she wasn’t exactly standard as far as people went, but she was a lot closer to it than anyone else, so Sam maybe had a point. Claire was surprised though how quickly she adjusted to the gore listed in Sam’s notes. What used to give her nightmares and make her sick was slowly becoming almost normal. The one thing that still made her stomach twinge was the description of Dean torturing and killing those two angels. Claire didn’t bother to read that part again, because even the thought of it made her blood run cold.

So it was late at night, and Claire knew she should be sleeping, but Sam had finished up his notes for the day and passed her the laptop without comment, so she decided to stay up a while and look through it. Usually she was a day or two behind Sam, and caught up when Cas insisted a case was too dangerous for her to go on, which was becoming more and more rare as she proved that she could handle herself in a fight. Anything to do with demons or angels, they tried to keep her out of, but everything else they brought her along, and despite the questionable moral leanings of her teachers, Claire liked what she was doing. Hunting was giving her purpose where she’d had none before.

On cases, she and Dean usually handled public relations and interrogations, because Cas and Sam were too blunt. Cas was the one who handled people who were grieving, probably because of the way his eyes could be so utterly sad, and misery loved company. Sam did research, because Dean decided reading about what to do to kill something when you were immortal wasn’t as fun as barging in and swinging until you figure it out. Sam and Claire, not being immortal, weren’t as big fans of that plan.

On this particular night, they hadn’t had a case in a while. It wasn’t surprising to Claire, because if she were a monster and heard a bunch of bloodthirsty supernatural beings were after her, she’d probably lay low too. Still, no news was better than bad news, so Claire typed away, focusing on the notes and adding in her own thoughts and opinions that she was sure would be further edited by Sam later.

“This is impossible,” Sam said, the confusion in his voice making Claire turn her head.

“What? Did you accidentally sleep with the same girl twice?” she asked.

“No, of course not,” Sam said, drawing the curtain to their room back so Claire could see. “This.”

Claire looked out and felt her heart start pounding in her throat. She knew this was going to happen, some time or another, but it didn’t stop it from hurting any less. Because across the parking lot stood Dean and Cas, kissing under a streetlamp. Claire stole a beer from Sam’s six pack. Hey, alcohol might not solve any problems, but it sure helped push them away.

“I don’t understand why my equations were so inaccurate,” Sam complained. “We haven’t had a real life or death experience in weeks. They haven’t had a serious fight in a couple of days. There was nothing to trigger any of this. They were just talking.”

After a while, Claire felt the alcohol working through her system and loosening her tongue. She sat next to Sam and stared out into the night, trying to ignore the image in front of her and finding she could think of nothing else.

“You didn’t weigh up the right things,” Claire said at last to cut off Sam’s rambling. Sam looked to her and asked with his eyes for her to continue. “You’re thinking about lust. Adrenaline high, blood pumping, I have to be with this person or I’ll die. That’s what you were basing everything on. But that’s not what they’re about.”

“What are they about?” Sam asked, writing furiously. Claire almost laughed. Sam clearly did not like being wrong.

“Ruining my life obviously,” Claire muttered.

“Claire, you have to tell me,” Sam said. “You know I don’t know about this stuff. I don’t get the whole feelings thing.”

Claire took another long swallow of her beer. God she hoped Cas didn’t try to sober her up when he found out.

“Put two and two together, Sam,” Claire said at last. “That was never about sex. And you don’t fall in love with someone in the stupid dangerous moments. In fact, that’s pretty much hate right there, if you ask me. It’s the quiet ones that get you. You want to know something?”

Sam nodded thoughtfully, still writing.

“I don’t remember any of my Christmas presents from when I was a kid. I know my dad took me to Disneyworld one year. I have no idea what I did there. Do you want to know what I remember about him?” Claire paused to take another drink. “I remember he used to read to me at night. I remember that he always told me to wait to eat until after we’d said Grace, but he did it with a smile, so I’d know I wasn’t in trouble. I remember the way he’d bring home flowers for mom sometimes, no reason, just because. It’s not the big things that matter. It’s everything in between.”

Sam had stopped taking notes and was staring into space slightly.

“You know, sometimes I do wish I had a soul.”

Claire started at that.

“I thought you liked not having to experience pain, like the rest of us plebeians,” Claire said. Sam shrugged.

“Yeah, I mean I’m glad I don’t constantly look like I’m about to have an emotional crisis like you guys, but I don’t know. The not needing to sleep thing is nice. I’m not unhappy. Just…”

“You want more,” Claire finished.

“Tell Dean that and I’ll slice your throat, Cas be damned,” Sam threatened. Claire grinned.

“Damning an angel, that would be a trick.”

“It’s been done,” Sam pointed out.

“You’re secret’s safe with me, Sammy,” Claire said. Sam growled at Dean’s nickname for him but otherwise seemed appeased. “You know this would all be so much easier if I hated him.”

“I thought you did hate Cas,” Sam said. Claire felt her eyes drag to the floor.

“I did.”

“But not anymore,” Sam said for her. “What changed?”

“He’s hard to dislike,” Claire admitted. “He tries so hard, all the time. And he looks so much like... I can’t…”

Claire felt the tears start up. Sam looked uncertain and patted her back lightly.

“Uh, don’t cry,” he said uncertainly. Claire started laughing.

“You suck at this.”

“Were you expecting different? There’s a reason we send Cas in to deal with grieving people.”

Claire wiped away her tears and went to sit back on her bed. She knew she wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon so she turned on the television and channel surfed. She found an episode of Mythbusters and stuck it there because she knew Sam would criticize their testing methods and point out that if he had his own show everybody would know the supernatural existed. Claire pointed out there were the Ghostfacers and nobody believed them. Claire was pretty sure the look Sam sent her way was a suggestion that he was very seriously considering killing her for even using his and their names in the same sentence. The great thing about rooming with someone without a soul though was that they didn’t hold grudges.

Cas and Dean stopped in early in the morning asking if Sam had found a case. Claire was surprised when Sam didn’t immediately bring up the fact they'd seen Dean and Cas playing tonsil hockey the night before, but they had an entire conversation without anyone saying a word about it, and Claire decided she wasn’t going to be the one to speak first.

Hey, if they didn’t talk about it, it was like it wasn't even happening right?


	9. It's a Trick

The case in Sioux Falls struck them all as odd. Claire was the one who found it, a fact that left her ridiculously pleased, but Dean and Cas made the decision that she and Sam should stay away until they figured out exactly what was going on.

It wasn’t everyday that you find a legitimate claim that someone’s been abducted by aliens. Or realized that was the least of the crazy claims that were being made. Apparently several people had actually done to the hospital because their faces had ‘gotten stuck like that’ and strangest of all was the absolute lack of deaths. In fact, the only death in the entire area that was suspicious was that a preacher hanged himself in a manner the police didn’t think was physically possible.

“This is such bullshit,” Claire said, staring at the motel wall. “I found the case.”

“We could leave,” Sam pointed out. Claire looked up hopefully.

“You’re okay with that?”

“Duh. Aliens, that is not something I’m just going to pass up. I was going to wait until you fell asleep before I snuck off, but if you want to come…”

“Let’s go,” Claire said immediately. Sam and her left the motel room, Sam with his fancy gun and Claire with the knife that killed demons. They managed to convince the kid who’d been abducted to do an interview with them, even though he’d already spoken to the cops (Dean and Cas, who weren't actually cops, but it’s not like he knew that) and Claire did her best to keep a straight face. Sam didn’t fair as well and by the time they were done, the kid was glaring at him.

“Thank you for your time,” Claire said, trying to seem older than her eighteen years. Usually, Dean just told people it was bring your daughter to work day, or that she was shadowing him. She guessed that the college kid in front of her was too traumatized to notice she was younger than him, though. “Call us if you remember anything else.”

“Oh my god,” Sam said, as soon as the kid was out of earshot. He was laughing. “Can we just give whoever did this flowers or something?”

“I mean if it’s not killing people,” Claire said with a shrug.

“What are you two doing here?”

Claire sighed. Busted. Cas was standing in front of them with Dean standing next to him looking amused. He winked at Claire before schooling his expression so it looked disapproving.

“I found the case,” Claire pointed out. “And I can handle myself. You know I can.”

“Not against this you can’t,” Castiel said firmly. “I’ve discovered what we’re dealing with.”

“And?”

“An Antichrist,” Castiel said. “He’ll have great powers over reality. You can’t stand against him. Hell, I may not be able to beat him.”

Claire grit her teeth and looked back at Dean, who shrugged.

“So it’s no more dangerous for me than for you, then? It’s not like I don’t know that you’d have Sam out here with you if you didn’t want him to watch me.”

“Claire-“

“Don’t you ‘Claire’ me. This is what I do now. I’m not scared to die, Cas. So if I want to come on a case I am damn well going to come, whether you want me to or not.”

Dean whistled.

“Wow, she’s just as rebellious and suicidal as you are Cas. I’m really getting the family resemblance.”

“Shut up, Dean,” Claire and Cas said at the same time.

“I’m trying to keep you safe,” Cas insisted. Claire rolled her eyes.

“That fucking ship sailed a really long time ago. You’re not my dad and you can’t tell me what to do.”

“You have a lot more to fear than death Claire Novak,” Castiel said, his eyes sparking with anger. “What if the threat we are facing today is a demon? An angel? Do you have any idea the pain they could put you through?”

“So what, you’d just leave me there to rot?”

“I am not the most powerful being to walk this Earth. I can’t protect you from everything. There are demons that could subdue me, gods, archangels-“

“Did somebody say Gabriel?” came a loud voice. All of a sudden the air surrounding them was filled with the distinct sound of a studio audience clapping. Cas’ face, which had already been angry, went livid.

“Gabriel.”

“Hello, Cassie!” said a short man. Claire suspected it was an angel from the look on Castiel’s face. He only looked that sad and angry when he was thinking about angels.

“What are you doing here?” Cas asked. Gabriel started pouting, over exaggerating the motion to the point of mocking.

“Oh, c’mon man. You don’t think it’s good to see an old face? I thought we had fun last time around.”

“You abandoned me to die.”

“Dwell on the past, why don’t you?” Gabriel said flippantly.

Dean subtly stepped in front of Cas. He had heard the words Cas and die in the same sentence and decided that anyone who produced those two words was not someone he liked.

“Who’s this dick then?” Dean asked. Gabriel’s eyes fell on him and darkened with hostility.

“So you’re the one who killed Remiel and Hael.”

“Brother, if you feel contrition for your actions, you will not attempt to harm anyone in my current company,” Castiel said, his hand barely resting on Dean’s arm to warn him not to attack. A vein in Gabriel’s neck twitched at the statement, but he didn’t make any move to harm Dean.

“Likewise, go after the kid and I’ll stick you in a pocket universe where you’re forced to sing bad broadway musicals.”

“Are you referring to the Antichrist?” Castiel asked in confusion.

“Well, his name’s Jesse, actually. And he’s a good kid.”

Claire caught motion out of the corner of her eye and turned to see a dark haired teenage boy watching them from just behind a building. She raised an eyebrow at him and he ducked around the corner. She kept staring until he snuck another glance and saw she hadn’t stopped looking. He gave a tiny wave and Claire felt her lips twitch into an almost smile. She nodded slightly at him.

“A good kid who is hurting people,” Castiel said in response to Gabriel. “A kid who has powers beyond his control.”

“How is that his fault? I’ve been looking after him for years, and we’ve been working on it. He’s not dangerous anymore. And I’ve been moderating some of his outbursts. You like to be left alone right? Well, so do we.”

“How do you watch him when you have responsibilities elsewhere?” Castiel asked. His tone might have sounded casual if it weren’t for the slight tremor under it that revealed his rage at the angel in front of him. “I thought you were keeping peace in Heaven for the time being.”

“Yes, Cas, I’m still keeping Raph and Mikey from opening the Cage. Happy?”

“Not particularly. But I care more about where the boy goes when you don’t watch him. I don’t think anyone less than an archangel would be qualified to take care of a boy like that.”

“You really want to know Cas? He stays with Bobby Singer. He owed me a favor, because I got him out of a deal. You want to go talk to him, Cas? I doubt he’d like to hear from you.”

“I don’t think we should do that,” Dean said quickly. Gabriel’s eyebrows went up in surprise.

“Dean. Not, you’re not Dean Winchester?”

“What’s it to you?” Dean asked, sounding nervous for the first time since Castiel had met him.

“You are, aren’t you?”

“Gabriel,” Castiel hissed. “I will speak to him. We did not part on the best of terms, but he understood my actions were necessary. I need to ensure that your Jesse is not causing harm.”

Gabriel snapped his fingers and then they were suddenly in the house of one Robert Singer. Castiel noticed that there was a boy there too, whose eyes were flicking between them all worriedly. They seemed to settle on Claire, and Claire offered up a small smile.

“Jesse, were you spying on us?” she asked him. He smiled apologetically back at her.

“It’s not everyday people come to kill you. Once a month maybe,” he said back to her. “But not everyday.”

“You obviously aren’t trying hard enough, then.”

“Yeah, quit flirting kiddos,” Gabriel said. “Bobby!”

“I am going to shoot you in the ass, Gabriel,” Bobby grumbled. He walked into the room. “Who the hell are all of these people?” Bobby focused in on Cas. “What’s he doing here?”

“Oh Cassie thinks Jesse’s dangerous. Figured you’d be able to convince him better than me. I brought everybody else for shits and giggles. Guess which one of them is the man you sold your soul for.”

Bobby’s eyes widened.

“Christo,” he said. Dean’s eyes flicked black. Bobby focused in on him. “Dean. I wish I could say it’s good to see ya.”

“Please don’t tell mom you saw me,” Dean said immediately. Claire and Sam were surprised by his tone of voice. It was the closest thing to regret the demon had ever shown. “Bobby, this would kill her.”

“I ain’t stupid kid,” Bobby said, his own voice not as void of emotion as Jesse and Gabriel were used to. “This wasn’t supposed to happen to you.”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t want to talk about it, Bobby. I’m glad your deal didn’t go through. Trust me, I wasn’t worth saving. Besides, I kind of like the new look. How do you know Cas anyway?”

Bobby tore his eyes away from Dean to glare at the angel.

“Well, after you died the world was supposed to start going to shit. This one took Jo’s little brother and ripped him apart piece by piece, ain’t that right? You’re damn lucky the Harvelles aren’t visiting, you know that Castiel?”

“I’m not here to cause pain. I only want to ensure that Jesse is not harming people.”

“The boy’s good. You have nothing to worry about from him.”

Castiel nodded once, his eyes traveling between Gabriel and Bobby.

“If he becomes a problem, I will be forced to return.”

“Oh you can try,” Gabriel said. His attempts at intimidation were not as effective as they could have been if Cas didn't tower over him by about three inches. The two angels stared each other down until Gabriel snapped his fingers again and they were by the Impala. Jesse was there too, and he flicked a wrist and mouthed to Claire ‘check your phone’ when nobody was looking. Claire did and found his phone number entered in.

“Go back to Bobby,” Gabriel said to Jesse, who disappeared without complaint. “Here’s the deal Castiel. You don’t mess with Jesse, and I don’t cut Dean up into little pieces and throw them into volcanoes. Sound good?”

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” Dean said. “I am actually standing right here. I swear it’s like angels think that all demons are deaf or something. You would not believe the names angels call me to Castiel. Not even to my face. And I’m supposed to be the evil one.”

“I suppose I do owe you for Raphael,” Gabriel said to Castiel after giving Dean a look of blatant disbelief. “I could take his tongue for you. I’m sure that would make tolerating his presence easier.”

“Goodbye Gabriel,” Castiel said pointedly before opening the door to Dean’s car. Dean, Sam, and Claire followed suit and they quickly left Gabriel behind, heading to another case as fast as Dean’s lead foot could take them.

Claire waited until Castiel was thoroughly distracted before taking out her phone. She texted a quick hi and was surprised when Jesse answered right away. After that the two of them fell into an easy conversation. Claire bit her lip to keep from smiling more than once. Dean was the only to notice, Claire could tell by the smug expression on his face. She expected him to say something to Cas and wreck her efforts to keep it secret but Dean didn’t say a word, just kept driving.


	10. How to Fuck Up a First Date in No Steps by Claire Novak

Ever since first meeting Jesse, Claire had kept up a steady correspondence with him. She was glad for it, having someone that was if not normal, at least half human and not soulless that she could talk to. Monster hunts were getting fewer and farther between as many of them started learning to cover their tracks better and better. Hunters, many of them would take their chances with, but now that they had a vindictive demon who enjoys torture after anything that goes bump in the night, your run of the mill monster wasn’t quite as eager to be caught.

This all meant that Dean jumped at any possible case, and took as much advantage as he could of the various demon skirmishes that had only been ramping up as time had gone on. Dean used his knife sessions to keep up to date on Crowley and Meg’s moves, mostly to make sure they didn’t cross paths, but also partly to annoy both sides, something Castiel was endlessly telling him to stop doing. Cas had to constantly watch Dean since the case load had started drying up, and Claire could see the demon getting more and more jumpy, constantly scratching at his right forearm. She was partly glad for the distraction, since he hadn’t mentioned Jesse since they’d first met him, and Claire wasn’t anxious for Cas to find out she’d been keeping in touch with him. It didn’t take a genius to know there was water not quite under the bridge between Cas and Gabriel, and Claire had no doubt that Cas would see her interest in Jesse as dangerous.

Because of the decreased work load, Sam had taken to reading over his notes and reorganizing them so that he could begin writing his book. Claire had taken to suggesting names, but Sam rejected them all, most likely because he just couldn’t appreciate the genius it took to come up with Chronicles of a Soulless Man. Sam could think it was stupid all he wanted, Claire knew that a title like that would have Sam’s part memoir part hunting instruction manual hitting the bestsellers faster than a preteen could squeal Twilight.

So all in all, texting Jesse was one of the few places Claire could go to alleviate the boredom. There was only so many times you could listen to Dean and Cas argue over the merits of adding serial killers to their list of who is acceptable to torture and kill before deciding shitty cable programs were for you. Not that that stopped them from loudly arguing over the sound of the TV. Claire would tell them to get a room, but she knew they just might.

“C’mon Cas, it’s been a week since the last time I killed something.”

“You know where I stand on this.”

“Yeah, well you don’t get what it’s like having this thing on your arm! It’s not all immortality and rainbows, y’know. The withdrawal fucks you up pretty good.”

“We’ll find a case soon. I’m sure you can manage until then,” Cas had said, clearly fed up with Dean.

Dean responded by grabbing his jacket and stomping out, a first for this particular argument, at least. Cas rushed out after him, but by the way he went back in immediately, it was clear Dean had disappeared. The next moment, there was a flapping of wings and Castiel was gone, likely to prevent Dean from doing whatever it was he was trying to get away with. Claire made a quick bet with Sam that it would be the local jail (Sam had been pretty sure it would be some politician Cas disliked, but Claire didn’t think Dean would do anything quite that noticeable— probably).

When the two of them got back late at night, both looked sufficiently dinged up and Claire guessed that Cas had just let Dean duke it out with him rather than harm civilians again. She sighed because even though fighting with Cas helped take the edge off Dean’s bloodlust, he always sulked for days afterwards and wouldn’t talk to Cas, which made everybody else (Sam and her) really comfortable. Not.

Shortly after this, Claire stole Sam’s credit card that he used to pay for their motel room and went to the store on a hunch. After buying all the necessary components, she went back to the hotel and meticulously set up a gaming system and put in the most violent, bloody game she could find at the store. When the familiar argument started up once again, Claire cut it short by asking Dean if he wanted to play a game with her.

“Why?”

“Because I’m bored and you’re here,” Claire answered despondently. Dean considered this and took the other controller from beside Claire before sprawling out on the floor and staring at the TV, seemingly fascinated.

“What game is this?”

“Something to do with zombies. It’s supposed to get really graphic.”

Dean grinned and picked his character while Claire did the same. Dean picked a grandma whose weapon was a cane, probably because he thought he was being funny. Dean looked at Claire expectantly, so Claire rolled her eyes and picked a cat with a machine gun. Did the game make sense? Fuck no, but the reviews had been full of people actually complaining how realistic the gore was. Claire had a suspicion about Dean’s ‘withdrawal’ symptoms, and she was putting it to the test.

Claire beat Dean fairly handily in multiplayer mode, but Dean didn’t seem frustrated by this, just kept playing with the kind of smile he usually reserved for his knife and a fresh victim in front of him. After about the seventh game, Claire decided to go to sleep but Dean just kept on going solo, and Claire had a feeling her idea had worked.

The next day, Dean was in a good mood, like he was after a particularly satisfying hunt. Claire took out her phone, feeling triumphant and texted Jesse, who she had been keeping updated on the situation.

Jesse was quick to concede Claire was a genius, and then proceeded to launch into a story about Bobby’s friend Rufus who had recently shown up needing help disposing of a body. Jesse had watched the whole thing, and when the cops came after Rufus looking for the body, Rufus was long gone. Fortunately for Bobby, Jesse could make any evidence of recent digging disappear. Not that he hadn’t dragged out the process by behaving suspiciously anyway because of a crush Bobby may or may not have had on a certain police officer.

While this conversation was going on, Castiel also seemed to notice Dean’s good mood. Sam had actually been the first notice, since he’s the most observant of the four, but didn’t really care whether Dean was in a good mood or not, so had noted it and postulated several theories as to why Dean might not feel like stabbing people today, and then decided to watch House reruns to try to test his memory on medical knowledge he had started studying as of late in order to help him with his examination of monster anatomy in his memoir.

Castiel didn’t know how to approach the subject delicately, so instead decided to just bring it up and hope for the best.

“You seem to better,” Cas said to Dean. Dean actually smiled at him, and held out his arm, which wasn’t shaking. Castiel looked at it suspiciously and then back at Dean. “Is there something I missed?”

“Oh don’t worry Cas, if I killed someone I’d be sure to tell you. In great detail. If only because you look good disappointed,” Dean said. “No, I don’t know man. I feel fine.”

“Hmm,” Castiel said thoughtfully, thinking what had been different the day before. “Do you think the game you played with Claire is helping?”

Dean frowned as he considered, not quite sure if he was buying what Cas was suggesting. But was there really any other reason that the bone deep craving that had been affecting him had just suddenly disappeared, the way it only did when he fed the thing with blood? A slow grin came across his face and he started laughing.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “The Mark of Cain digs violent video games. Who’d’ve thought?”

“Claire apparently,” Castiel answered.

“What about me,” Claire said, her head popping up suddenly and guiltily. Dean rolled his eyes because she had obviously been texting that kid Jesse again and thought Cas might have caught on. Lucky for her, Cas was kind of oblivious of what went on in a teenage girl’s head, so he had no reason to think that she was keeping in contact with him, and Dean wasn’t about to willingly go through that fight anytime soon.

“Were you going to say anything about your super secret plot to get me my next fix?” Dean asked before Cas could get suspicious of Claire’s freaked out expression. She relaxed instantly and shrugged, going back to her phone.

“I figured if it worked you’d stop whining,” she said. “Do you realize how much you bitch about that mark? I got sick of it months ago. So you’re welcome I guess.”

“Uh huh,” Dean said, smiling slightly. Claire glared at him and then went back to staring at her phone. A text came through and she smiled again, the kind of smile that was genuine all the way through, without a hint of regret or bitterness. Dean didn’t feel that bad about not telling Cas what Claire was doing, even if they were… something. Cas would get it someday, but until he stopped being so pissed at Gabriel he really didn’t need to know.

“I’m going out,” Claire said the next minute. Cas waylaid her to ask her exactly where she was going out and for how long and made sure she remembered to pray to him of she ran into any trouble and “do not try to fight demons by yourself Claire, do you understand?”. Claire lied to him fluidly, and Dean gave her a little mock salute before she left.

“Don’t forget protection,” Dean said as she started to walk out the door. She turned around, stuttering, her cheeks red, but Cas seemed to remember something and immediately handed her the one of the several angel blades he kept on his person. If anything, Claire turned redder and mumbled something about demons being assholes before she slammed the door and left the demon, the angel, and the soulless man to scour through newspapers trying to find a case.

Claire had told Cas she was going to go to the library to read, which was only partially a lie, because she knew Cas had a good enough sense of where she was that if she went somewhere else entirely he would get suspicious. But she was really going to the coffee shop outside the library where she had agreed to meet Jesse so they could talk in person. They’d already met up once or twice, but Claire still found herself feeling better than she had in years. It was almost normal, meeting up with a guy you liked so you could spend a couple of hours talking.

Sure they were probably going to spend most of it talking about monsters and hunting, but if it worked it worked.

“Jesse,” Claire said with a smile when she saw him. He tapped the table to let her know to sit down and passed her the coffee she had ordered. When she’d been living on her own she’d avoided relying on a caffeine fix, but since she’d started hunting she’d picked the habit of drinking coffee black from Cas. Claire knew that he drank so much of it because he didn’t like to smoke around her, though she could tell he still did because sometimes he would come in from one of his nights making sure Dean didn’t murder people and he would smell like pot. Claire figured this was just proof that people wouldn’t change for you, even if they wanted you to think they would, and it’s better just to decide for yourself whether you can deal with them. And she’d decided she could deal with Cas for the foreseeable future, whatever fucked up thing that said about her.

And maybe Dean wasn’t bad all the time when he wasn’t being a class A douchebag. Not that Claire would ever give the ass the satisfaction of hearing it.

“What have you been up to?” Jesse said, drinking down some kind of decaf tea because Gabriel told him he was under no circumstances allowed to have any food that had mind altering properties. Claire didn’t see what exactly coffee was supposed to do, but Jesse assured her that the first time he’d ever had chocolate as a kid was enough to scar Gabriel for eternity.

“So I had just turned nine and Gabriel showed up with a cake. Bobby had given me a wrench earlier in the day and told me I could help him fix up a car sometime, and that was a big deal I knew, but I’d been captured by demons for years and giving a kid candy was surprisingly not on their to do list.”

“Demons, suspiciously less creepy than regular men with vans. Or archangels,” Claire said. Jesse snorted before continuing his story.

“Well I ate it and apparently the caffeine from the chocolate got my heart racing, and I just got very excited. I knew Gabriel could fly, so I got it into my head that I could fly too. So just imagine I’m on the roof of my house, and I step off the edge.”

“And you were fine, because you can actually teleport.”

“Well, see I wasn’t thinking straight, so I realized about half way down that I wasn’t an angel so I probably couldn’t fly, which meant of course I couldn’t fly because I didn’t think I could. I hit the ground and my legs were both broken. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Oh, I was definitely planning on jumping off a building, but now that you mention it I think I’ll hold off,” Claire said, taking a deep sip of her coffee to hide her smile so she could pull off a straight face. Jesse was grinning like a maniac, so it was hard, but she was managing.

“Good,” Jesse said. “So, I just lay there for a while and then I started screaming. Gabriel popped up with his knife out and scanning everywhere looking for whoever was attacking me. Then he realized no one was there and I was lying on the ground. I thought for a second he was going to yell at me, but he saw my legs and, just the look on his face… I couldn’t have freaked him out more if I was trying.”

“I’m guessing he healed you?” Claire asked, watching people walk by out the window. Jesse nodded and she looked back at him. “I broke my arm when I was five. My dad near had a panic attack. My mom was completely calm and had to drive me to the emergency room and when we got there the nurse thought we were waiting because my dad was sick, because he was so pale.”

Jesse reached out and took Claire’s hand. Claire cleared her throat and looked away.

“You must miss them.”

Claire shrugged, slipping her hand out of his.

“Yeah,” she said simply. Jesse took the hint and backed off the subject, and it wasn't long until Claire felt herself start to relax again.

“Hey, I need to use the bathroom,” Claire said after a while. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“I’ll be here,” Jesse said back amicably.

But when Claire got back Jesse was gone. She frowned slightly and texted Jesse asking where he was. The message she got back was short but chilled her down to the core.

Help.

“Fuck,” Claire said, praying without thinking it through. Shit Cas would be here any second and she had no clue what to tell him.

“Claire is something wrong?” Cas said the next second standing right beside her. Claire jumped harder than she had in ages. God, what was she going to do? She didn’t know where Jesse was, who had him, what the fuck they wanted. And for all she knew Cas wouldn’t help her find him. He thought Jesse was dangerous. Claire breathed in deeply and came up with the first excuse that came to mind.

“Can I have a ride back to the motel?” she asked. Cas stared at her confused, but tapped her on the forehead and she was back in the room. She breathed again. No use keeping it a secret a this point. At least if she said it here, she’d have some more neutral opinions in addition to Cas’.

“I need help tracking someone down,” Claire said immediately. Three pairs of eyes immediately landed on her.

“Who would that be?” Dean asked, pausing the video game he was playing. Claire’s eyes flicked to Cas before focusing in on Dean because he knew.

“Jesse. I was talking to him on the phone and he sent me a message saying he needed help.”

“I’m sure Gabriel will find him,” Castiel said instantly. “You’ve been speaking to Jesse over the phone?”

“Look, Cas, that’s not what’s important right now,” Claire deflected immediately. “He’s in trouble okay? You have to trust me on this. Please,” she said. Cas looked like he wanted to argue more, but the moment she said please the fight seemed to go out of him.

“Do you have any idea what kind of trouble he might be in?” Cas asked.

“Wait, are we just going to ignore Crowley trying to raise Death now?” Sam asked. While Claire had been on her date, the other three had run across disturbing patterns in a town called Carthage. In the Apocalypse, Lucifer is supposed to raise Death, but since Crowley’s goal was to stop it from happening all together, he didn’t much care whether he was ruining one of the Devil’s little ceremonies. It was a blatant power grab, and Meg’s forces were causing chaos trying to break through the warding around the town. Cas had immediately insisted that raising Death was a serious enough problem they should intervene. Dean had asked Cas why he didn’t just call up one of his angel friends and have them do it, which is one reason Cas hadn’t spoken to Dean in the last hour.

“We have time,” Cas said. Sam raised an eyebrow that suggested they did not have time. Claire looked between the two men and saw as Cas’ conviction to help her warred with his tendency to do what was necessary for the greater good.

“I can take her,” Dean offered. “You and Sam go play hero in Carthage. Buy me a t-shirt. I’ll help get Satan Jr.”

“Don’t call him that,” Claire said immediately. Dean gave her a half smile before sticking his tongue out and then transported her away before Cas or Sam could say anything to his plan.

“So now that we’re away from Cas, you want to tell me what really happened?” Dean asked her. Claire considered asking him to take her back to Cas but decided that this was better even if Dean was an asshole.

“I was with Jesse-“

“I know. Where?”

“The coffee shop by the libr-“

Dean transported them both there immediately. Claire hoped that her digestive system didn’t get fucked up from all the instant transport she was being subjected to.

“Well, this is just fucking fantastic,” Dean said after they’d landed. “You’re like a magnet for trouble kid. You go on one date, and Meg steals your boyfriend. I’d say she was jealous, but we both know she has her eye on Cas.”

“Meg took him?” Claire asked. She would have recognized Meg. She shivered thinking of when Meg had had her tied to a chair, a knife held against her throat. She wasn’t forgetting that face anytime soon. Though, of course she could change it.

“Or one of her cronies,” Dean adjusted easily. “This whole place smells like sulfur. You know under the smell of adolescent angst and bad coffee. Crowley’s about to raise Death, so Meg needs a weapon to match. She probably has eyes on you, and you dangle probably one of the most powerful beings in existence in front of her. Of course she took him.”

“Well where would she take him?” Claire asked, feeling her breath getting short. She couldn’t even have this one thing without everything getting fucked up. “Dean, you know what she can do. We need to find him.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said. “We had the same teacher, down in the Pit. She knows her shit. But, lucky for you Cas and I have been staking out some of the places she hangs out, just in case she decided to go after you again, so I have an idea where she might be. We should probably send Gabriel though.”

“I’m going, too,” Claire said immediately. “It’s my fault he ended up there. I need to make sure he’s okay.”

“Cas would kill me if I let you go,” Dean said. “He would actually spend the rest of eternity finding some way to kill me, and when he did he would make sure I knew it was because I let you do something dangerous and stupid.”

“Like he wouldn’t do the same damn thing if it were you that got kidnapped,” Claire snapped at him. Dean snorted at that. “What, he’s allowed to do stupid things for the guy he likes and I’m not? And since when do you care what happens to me? I’m just the kid Cas drags around with him, if you weren’t fucking him you’d probably shoot me. Oh no wait, you already have!”

“See, I knew you knew,” he muttered. “Tell you what? I cover for you here, tell Cas I made you wait in a warded hotel somewhere and you don’t act like a dick when you ‘find out’ about Cas and me.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Claire said, shouting now. People around them have started to stare, so Claire lowers her voice down. “What am I supposed to do? How the fuck am I supposed to react. That… that’s my dad’s body and you’re… you’re…”

“Hell scum?” Dean offered helpfully. “See, I thought you liked that in a man, considering your boy toy and everything,” Claire had no response for that, so she just huffed angrily and looked away. Dean leaned in closer to catch her attention again. “And you know what, Claire? I don’t give a shit about your dad. He’s dead and Cas being celibate for the rest of his life or fucking whoever the hell he wants isn’t going to change that. You know he’s dead. But whatever the hell Cas and I have going, it’s a good thing okay? I’m not asking you to be happy about it, I’m asking you not to be a dick. Now do you want to get Jesse back or not?”

Well that wasn’t much of a choice was it?

“Fine,” Claire said through gritted teeth. “I won’t ‘be a dick’.”

“Well get praying then,” Dean said with a self satisfied smirk. Claire considered hitting him before deciding it would end up doing more damage to her hand than his face and prayed to Gabriel, explaining the situation.

To say he looked less than pleased with the both of them would be an understatement.

“What the hell have you two done to him?” Gabriel hissed. Claire realized they were no longer in the coffee shop and were instead in the middle of a field. Dean also looked disoriented. Claire wondered briefly if Gabriel was going to kill them.

“Sweet fuck all,” Dean said looking unconcerned. It was easy to be nonchalant when you were immortal, though Cas had hinted that it was possible for archangels to kill Knights of Hell given the right weapon. “Meg’s the one you should be going all righteous on. She’s the one who had him kidnapped.”

“After he spent an afternoon with her,” Gabriel pointed out, glaring at Claire. “Let’s face it, Cas has made deals with demons before and he didn’t like Jesse. He’s a lonely kid and you send in your little acolyte to win him over so that Meg will leave you alone-“

“Get a grip. Do you really think Cas would do that?”

“You think you know him better than I do?” Gabriel demanded. “I spent billions of years by his side. If he thinks that it’s the right thing to do, he’s going to do it, the rest of us be damned.”

“That’s not true,” Claire said, not even sure why she was defending him, but feeling some untapped anger coming up at Gabriel’s words. “He cares about people. How can you say that when you’re the one who left him to die for the sake of the greater good? You fucking hypocrite! I called you so we could help Jesse and you’re wasting time because your fucking feelings are hurt?”

Gabriel seemed almost stunned by Claire’s outburst. Before he could harden his expression and tell her off Claire turned to Dean and kept talking.

“Let’s go. We’re taking too long.”

Dean grabbed Claire’s arm and they were both teleported to behind a tree that overlooked a warehouse. Claire only had to look once before seeing that the place was crawling with demons.

“Shit,” she said.

“Well, you've got that right,” Dean said back. “This is twice as many as they usually have here. I’m guessing this is the place.”

“We can’t take out that many,” Claire said. “I mean, you could give it a shot, but they’d just shove you into a Devil’s trap eventually.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Dean said cheerfully, weighing his options. Demons were opportunistic bastards, but unfortunately these particular opportunistic bastards had something greater calling to them than their own survival. A demon with faith was as deadly and dangerous as a member of the Westboro Baptist Church (which surprisingly had never had a member that was possessed by a demon, probably because of the possible embarrassment the possession would incur). The odds were not good. “Okay, first plan, you go out as bait, and I sneak in and rescue you both.”

“Yeah, not wild about that plan,” Claire said. Dean’s arguments for why it was actually a great idea were cut off by the sound of feather shifting and the grating voice of Heaven’s most annoying archangel, at least as far as Dean was concerned.

“I’ll kill the demons, you two go in and get Jesse out. There’s angelic warding, so we’re going to need to get as many out of the building as we can. Dean, you know what angel proofing looks like? Here’s some spray paint, mess it up if you see any.”

“Yes sir,” Dean said sarcastically.

“Don’t think I won’t take your tongue kid, whether Cassie wants you to keep it or not,” Gabriel threatened before sending an alarm off and disappearing, flitting from demon to demon, killing with an efficiency not even Dean could hope to match. Dean immediately grabbed Claire’s arm and the two of them made a quick run for the nearest entrance. Dean stopped quickly to paint over some angel warding symbols. Claire couldn’t see them and urged him to hurry. Dean kicked open the door and he and Claire met demons a few at a time, with Claire taking out three or four as they worked their way through and Dean taking out whoever came across his path. Tag teaming with Claire wasn’t actually all that bad to be honest. What she lacked in skill and finesse, she made up with tenacity and will to keep swinging until her opponents had been hacked to bits.

Dean stopped periodically to break angel warding symbols, which at least Claire had remembered he was supposed to do, so she had stopped yelling at him to ‘get a damn move on’.

They finally made it to the room Meg was in. Claire felt her heart rise to he mouth when she saw Jesse, his skin hanging loose, cut to the bone, in some places, his eyes wide with pain and fear and his hands cuffed to his chairs, strange markings likely keeping him from using his abilities.

“Jesse,” she whispered horrified. Meg started laughing, loud and bright. Claire had the urge to run her through with her knife, but she was too far away for it to have mattered and Claire wasn’t stupid enough to charge at someone based on emotion alone. Claire twisted her knife in her fingers, a trick she’d picked up from Cas, and one that had become a nervous habit since she’d first learned to imitate it.

The next moment there was a touch on her arm and the sudden awareness of a sigil previously invisible under her. Claire heard Dean’s intent loud and clear in her mind and launched the knife at the ground. Meg saw what Claire was doing and disappeared, her usual keen sense of self preservation taking precedence over keeping her latest prize. The moment the blade hit the floor, Gabriel appeared. He was by Jesse’s side the next second, healing him with a hand on his shoulder before breaking the cuffs and pulling Jesse into a tight hug.

“Gabe, I’m fine,” Jesse said. “It’s okay.”

“Don’t you say it’s fucking okay,” Gabriel said, going from relieved to mad quick enough to make heads spin. “You know you have to watch yourself and you decide to spend the afternoon out in the open with her? She’s being watched by angels and demons six ways till Sunday. You could’ve been killed.”

Jesse ignored Gabe for the moment his eyes meeting Claire’s over the angel’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“It’s not your fault. I should’ve been more careful,” he told her. Claire grimaced, and couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Well this is a beautiful moment and all, but could we go somewhere that isn’t a recently demon infested shit hole to discuss the star crossed shit?” Dean asked casually, after checking his phone for messages from Cas or Sam. So far nothing, but that wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was the fact that whatever sense Gabriel had seemed to go out the window where Jesse was concerned.

The four of them were instantly back in the field from earlier. Jesse stumbled slightly, likely from blood loss, and Claire unthinkingly wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him steady. She wouldn’t look at him still but, she didn’t let him go right away. Gabriel could see the steel in Jesse’s eyes that suggested he was determined to keep whatever relationship he had formed with Claire. If she was anything like his little brother, and all the evidence up tot his point had suggested as much somehow, that was only going to end in pain and tragedy, and Gabriel wasn’t going to let it happen.

“I’m taking you home,” Gabriel said. The next moment Dean and Claire were left alone.

“Well, the good news is you won’t have to break it to Cas,” Dean pointed out after a brief silence.

“Go fuck yourself on a cactus.”

“Hmm. Kinky.”

Claire decided ignoring Dean was first on her current list of priorities. When Claire checked her phone, Jesse’s number was gone and so was any evidence they’d ever spoken. Somehow that hurt worse than just knowing Gabriel wouldn’t let her talk to Jesse ever again. Claire’s one shining piece of connection to someone else had been taken and destroyed, and she stared down at her phone dejectedly until the sudden lurch in her stomach told her Dean had taken them back to the motel.

“If it makes you feel better, I have Bobby’s number,” Dean said in an offhand manner. Claire looked at him trying to figure out if he meant what she thought he did by the statement. “It’ll work out kiddo. Don’t cry yourself a river because an angel’s acting annoying. They’re all a little weird, it’s just kind of the way it is.”

Claire cleared her throat and nodded, turning on the television and putting something on to dispel the uncomfortable silence.

“Thanks,” she offered up at last, half regretting it the moment it left her mouth, but Dean didn’t draw attention to it, just nodded to show he’d heard and started making lewd comments about the nun that was currently occupying the television screen. After a while Claire joined in making fun of the program and she felt something in her loosen that she was pretty sure she had wanted to keep wound tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot from Sam and Cas' adventure to Carthage will be incoming next chapter.


	11. Don't Forget the King

Castiel did not like how Dean had simply disappeared with Claire and had half a mind to go after him, but Sam’s insistent stare made him pause long enough to recognize that Crowley needed to be stopped, and loathe as he was to admit it, he trusted Dean to take care of her. This being the case, he asked Sam what they needed and helped the hunter pack before beginning the drive to Carthage. Although it would be faster to teleport, Sam preferred to have the car within a thirty minute walking distance so that should Castiel die, he won’t be stranded with nothing but demons for miles. Also, it was less than two hours away, and Castiel knew that they had until the following night to prevent Crowley from raising Death, since it required a certain resonance with the universe that wouldn’t be optimal until that date.

On the drive, Castiel’s thoughts fell back to the new discovery of Claire’s communication with Jesse. His unease slowly increased until he decided to ask Sam about it, despite the fact he rarely found conversations with Sam very enjoyable for him, though they were often enlightening. It was difficult to connect with someone whose primary interest in you was as a source of entertainment.

“Sam?” Castiel asked, keeping his eyes on the road. He smiled momentarily, thinking of how Dean seemed incapable of doing the same, his eyes constantly wandering, closing as he sings at the top of his lungs while Claire and Sam speak loudly over him, complaining. Sam finished something he’s writing in one of his many notebooks and looked over to Cas.

“What?”

“How long have Claire and Jesse been in contact?” Castiel asked. Sam shrugged.

“I think since they met. Claire started spending about five times as much time on her phone since she met him.”

“I see,” Castiel said. He could feel anger seething under his skin.

“You sound mad,” Sam observed. Castiel would point out that his emotions were fairly obvious and that was not a particularly astute remark, but refrained. That Sam could even recognize the feelings of others was likely a hard won challenge for him, since he had lived his entire life without emotions of his own to guide him.

“I am concerned he is using her for some purpose,” Castiel replied, attempting to keep his voice calm. Inwardly, he was constructing plans of just what he would do should he find out that Jesse’s intentions for Claire were anything unpleasant.

“I thought you were all about free love,” Sam said with a smirk. He clearly found it funny that Castiel was so concerned for Claire. “Isn’t your philosophy to sleep with anyone who’ll have you?”

“Maybe in the vast amount of patterns you’ve observed, you’ve failed to notice that Claire instinctually distrusts men and has shown little interest in sex,” Castiel replied. “I know Claire can take care of herself. I trust her to make these decisions, and to pray to me if she needs my assistance. But I can not trust her with that boy.”

“Why?” Sam asked. “Because of Gabriel?”

“Hardly,” Castiel snorted. “Jesse has incredible powers over the way we perceive the world. If he believes something strongly enough it happens. Do you understand my issue with any kind of relationship with a boy who can do that?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Sam said. “I don’t know how you think you’re going to stop Claire from talking to him, though.”

“I won’t have to. Gabriel will likely take care of it. I just don’t want Claire to get hurt in the mean time.”

“Right, because when Claire wants something and doesn’t get it, she just gives up,” Sam said sarcastically. Cas felt his grip tighten on the wheel, but was careful not to damage it because he knew Dean would give him hell if he did so. The demon was oddly possessive of the stolen car, though as far as Cas could tell Dean was just oddly possessive, period.

The ride to Carthage was quiet after that, and Castiel took advantage of Dean’s absence to play classical music from the radio. He found it soothing and slowly tried to let his concerns for Claire fade away for the moment. He needed to be present so that he could prevent Crowley from raising Death, and if Claire needed him, she would pray. And if she couldn’t pray, Dean would take care of the problem, of that Castiel was sure. He had long since learned that though Dean cared little about the harm that befell strangers, anyone he considered his own was off limits if you wanted to avoid his wrath.

Not that Dean had any problem inciting fights with Castiel every once in a while just to see who would win.

Castiel and Sam abandoned the car about a ten minute walk from the edge of town. Castiel could feel the angel warding affecting his grace, and sighed. It seemed Crowley had warded against angels, a smart move on his part because although Heaven cared little about the chaos the current civil war in hell was causing on Earth, there were many angels that wanted the Apocalypse to happen, and having a demon ruin one of Lucifer’s jobs was practically blasphemous. Then again, Crowley had always been smart, had been one of the few demons who knew without having to be told that Lucifer reviled demons even more than he did humans. That they weren’t his children, they were the twisted remains of God’s most beloved offspring made slaves. If Castiel did find Crowley to be an annoying, manipulative bastard, he at the very least respected that Crowley knew which way was up and which way was Heaven, Earth, and Hell thoroughly screwed over by the Devil. Not that that wasn’t a wet dream for demons like Meg and her cronies.

Meg’s cronies who were currently letting him and Sam walk by without even putting up a fight. Although Castiel knew the demons wanted to put a stop to the raising of Death as much as they did (or at the very least wanted to get rid of Crowley so they could raise Death themselves) it still made him quiver with anger that they were slowly burning through their human bodies. He could try an exorcism, but they would just smoke out and find new bodies before he’d finished, likely tearing through their meat suit’s mind as they left. Castiel tried not to think guiltily of Jimmy, who he had kept unaware during his time as a vessel, even when his family was threatened. At the time, it had seemed it was for the greater good, but at the time Castiel hadn’t known that he would die and the body he had borrowed would become entirely his own.

Once Castiel and Sam reached the edge of town, Castiel couldn’t walk any further. He gave Sam one of his swords and a piece of glass he had treated with holy oil.

“There are sigils around here that prevent angels from entering. If you break enough, I should be able to get into town. It’s very important that you only break the angelic warding.”

Castiel drew out for Sam which wards to break and waited impatiently as the hunter pressed the sword into the sigils that Cas could see glowing lightly on the ground. Sam held out the glass in front of him and after about a half hour during which Sam had wandered close to the perimeter and long since left Cas’ sight, Cas felt the tugging on his grace loosen enough that he could pass over the boundary and he quickly flew to Sam. 

“Oh thank god, I was getting so bored,” Sam said, passing the treated glass back to Cas. Castiel rolled his eyes at Sam’s frustration and was about to teleport the both of them closer to where the angelic warding was even more dense (and where Castiel could feel Crowley was, the paranoid bastard). But before he could go, something hard was shoved into his back and he heard a click.

“I’m guessing that’s a gun,” Castiel said calmly. It wasn’t a demon, he could tell that, though how whoever it was had snuck up on him, he had no idea.

“No, I’m just real happy to see you,” said a familiar voice that rose a series of very conflicting emotions in Castiel. He saw Ellen holding a gun to Sam and very slowly turned, keeping his hands where Jo could see them until he met the fierce of eyes of the hunter herself.

“Jo. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Likewise,” Jo said, moving the gun so it was placed under Castiel’s chin. “I can’t say I’m complaining though. I have been waiting to do this for a long fucking time.”

“You know that won’t hurt me,” Cas said quietly. Jo laughed, the sound coming out brittle and half hysterical. Cas took in her heavily tattooed arms, and recognized many spells that cloaked her from angels. And on one shoulder, he saw the handprint that still looked angry and red from the day he had pulled her from the pit.

“Actually, we melted down one of your friend’s swords. Got a few bullets out of it. So this gun can blow your fucking brains out,” Jo said, her voice laced with anger. “Not that you don’t deserve a lot fucking worse for what you did to Adam.”

“Do I have to be here for this?” Sam asked in a loud stage whisper. Ellen, who had been watching her daughter silently and with a touch of regret on her face, poked her gun harder into Sam’s side, making him grunt. “Okay, I get it. Let’s just watch the drama unfold. Sorry I didn’t bring popcorn. Hey do you mind if I write a transcript of what they’re saying?” Sam asked, pulling out his notebook and pen even as Ellen clicked off the safety. Sam ignored her and eventually the brief interruption was lost in the tension building between Cas and Jo.

“He asked,” Cas said at last.

“You put the idea in his head. You talked to that black eyed British fucker and the next thing we know Adam’s gone. You know that there must have been another way. Adam could’ve fought it. Maybe he wouldn’t have broken the last seal, you don’t know that he would have. So he’s dead, and it’s all… your… fault.”

“Then pull the trigger,” Cas said wearily. Jo tightened her grip and pressed the barrel more firmly into Cas’ neck. “I am sorry, for what I’ve done, but I can’t change it. There are other people who are safe right now, billions of people because of what your brother sacrificed. Don’t think it was something done lightly.”

Jo was breathing hard, her finger twitching. She and Cas stood like that for a long time, Jo just staring at him, trying to will herself to press the trigger. At last Cas spoke again.

“There’s only so long you can miss Jo,” he said. Jo clicked the safety on and holstered the gun, glaring at the ground. Because they had been there before, when he had first told her. She had trapped him in a ring of holy fire after being unable to find Adam, and Cas had explained to her what had happened. She had called down angels and calmly told Cas that she hoped he liked the ass reaming he was going to get in Heaven. But before his brethren had arrived, the sprinklers had gone off, and Cas had known that Jo must have set them off as she exited the building she had trapped him in, and he was able to escape. That hadn’t stopped his death when Gabriel had turned him in, however.

Jo couldn’t shoot him. She couldn’t even leave him to die. She had placed so much trust in Castiel, had been the reason he disobeyed, and yet he had betrayed her and she couldn’t even do the same in return. Castiel wondered if perhaps it would have been best if he had never been allowed so close to humans, because all he seemed to be able to do was break them.

“So what are you lot doing here?” Sam said, breaking the awkward silence. Ellen had lowered her gun from his side and gave Sam another look.

“Does this one ever stay quiet?” she asked, her low smoky voice familiar and haunting. Castiel had always liked Ellen, found her reasonable and stronger than most. Seeing the hurt buried in her eyes kept Cas from looking too closely at her.

“We all have flaws,” he said. “Why are you two here?”

“Singer sent us,” Ellen said. “Demons have been riled up here like you wouldn’t believe. He says that signs are pointing to some kind of town take over.”

“Crowley’s raising Death,” Castiel said. “Sam and I can take care of it.”

“Like Hell, you will,” Jo said.

“Wait, Death like the horseman?” Ellen said at the same time. “Bobby mentioned, but we figured that was a long shot. Isn’t that supposed to be Apocalyptic?”

“Well, Jo’s supposed to be possessed by Michael and fighting her brother to the death at the moment, so I think we can assume that we’re all writing the script as we go at this point,” Castiel said. “There’s a civil war in hell, and Crowley’s trying to get the upper hand. Which I wouldn’t mind as much if he weren’t trying to raise Death himself.”

“You have the best taste in friends,” Jo said, her tone acidic. “Who’s this anyway, another one of your demon pals?”

“Sam Campbell, actually,” Sam said. Jo and Ellen spared a look at each other, clearly recognizing the last name. “Human.”

Cas was glad that Sam found it prudent not to mention his soullessness.

“Great, a Campbell is almost as bad as a demon,” Jo said quietly. Ellen shut her daughter up with a look, though Cas knew she secretly agreed. The Campbells had quite the ruthless reputation among monsters and hunters alike. Then again, Sam was worse than ruthless. Not that they needed to know that. “Well, congrats, you just got two more helpers. Now lets go take down that asshole before I shoot one of you two.”

Castiel sighed, but didn’t try to teleport the two women away. It was their choice to participate, and he’d rather they were closer to him than trying to find a different and likely more dangerous way to get back and stop Crowley.

The four hunters walked through town, looking around at the eery emptiness. Castiel found it hard to believe that the demons didn’t know they were there, but nothing came out to meet them, so Cas just kept walking closer and closer to where he knew Crowley was by the slight thrum of power he could sense.

The were very close when they heard the soft puffs of breath and angry snarls that indicated hell hounds were close by.

“The glass,” Castiel said to Sam, tossing it to him. He lifted it up to his face and started calling out times as quickly as he could while Jo and Ellen shot the approaching dogs. Castiel blinked in and out of existence between the hellhounds, slitting their throats and trying to ignore the rock salt that hit him a few too many times to be entirely on accident.

Jo was sick with fear as she shot, remembering the way it had felt when she’d been dragged to hell by the snarling beasts. Castiel must have killed dozens and was still flitting back and forth, Sam still yelling out positions, and all Jo could think that this was how she was going to die again. Then she heard it, the slight scuffing of ground behind her. She turned, the deepest, loudest growl she had ever heard resonating through her very bones. For a moment she was entirely still. Then she ran as fast as she could, hoping at the very least that her mom would make it out okay. Jo tripped and fell soon after and crawled quickly to try to get to a wall but felt teeth closing in on her leg. She screamed, desperately trying to shoot what must have been an enormous hellhound when suddenly a deep voice rang so loud she had to cover her ears in pain.

“Growley!”

The pain in her leg increased as the teeth released it and Jo could feel herself gasping. She heard the soft breathing of the dog, a slight whimper rising in its throat.

“Growley, come here,” said the voice again, this time at a normal volume. Jo recognized it as Castiel’s voice then. The hellhound padded away from her, its footprints obvious as it dragged its way to the angel. Castiel looked down at the dog furiously.

“Bad dog,” he said firmly. The hellhound whimpered again, and Castiel kneeled down and began to pet it. Jo stared in shock and was barely aware of her mother asking if she was okay.

“Stay,” Castiel commanded the hellhound before walking up to Jo. He healed her leg, and Jo was reminded the day they had first met, when Castiel had seemed impressive and sure of himself. Before she had learned how lost he was.

“Good,” Castiel said when he returned to the hellhound.

“What are you doing, Castiel?” asked the crisp British voice that went along with the King of Hell’s latest meat suit. “Bloody fucking hell. How does the dog still like you?”

Castiel ignored this and Crowley seethed because he still had no idea when exactly his favorite hellhound had decided to imprint on his least favorite angel.

“Stop this Crowley,” Castiel said. “You’ll win in hell eventually. There’s no need for this.”

“I think you’ll find there is. You see, I can’t just have a bunch of meddling angels in my business if they don’t like the way I’m running Hell,” Crowley said, whistling softly. The hellhound ran off, the dust from it’s footprints rising up in a steady pattern. “So might as well have something I can use against them.”

“Heaven doesn’t care what hell does.”

“Really? You think that’s the true. Well, perhaps there are more angels that see your line of thinking than you suppose. You see, some of my employees have been running into angelic problems lately. None of the big hitters, you understand, just little pockets of rebels that seem to think its their job to save humanity. Seems you’ve started a trend.”

“Well, you did say I have sex appeal,” Castiel said, his tone flat.

“Now, I can have some of them rounded up and tortured, but… what kind of message does that send to the children? Instead, I think I’ll just go nuclear while everybody else is still playing in the minor leagues. You understand what I’m saying?”

“I am familiar with baseball metaphors.”

“Oh, I’m sure that demon whore of yours has you very familiar with baseball metaphors.”

Castiel rolled his eyes at the obvious baiting.

“I won’t let you do this,” he said instead, letting his knife fall into his hand. Crowley smirked as he watched Castiel disappear in a flash of light. His assistant who had been hiding around the corner wiped the blood from his hand, pleased to have completed the angel banishing sigil without drawing the angel’s attention.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t a couple of vessels and the soulless man,” Crowley said, voice ringing in a teasing sing song tone. He waved his hands and demons quickly restrained the remaining three humans. “Just what am I going to do with all of you?”


	12. Carthage

”Oh, please, they don’t have the balls to kill him off,” Claire said as Dean stared at the screen waiting for the commercial to be over to see if the doctor who just got shot by his most recent patient was going to pull through.

“Where he got shot it is physically impossible for him to recover. I know, Sam’s explained it to me enough times,” Dean insisted, eyes never leaving the screen.

“Because this show is so accurate. I mean, just last time, that nun’s bruising went down in like-“

A sudden influx of light and a boom loud enough for a small explosion filled the motel room, the windows and mirrors shattering. Claire curled into a ball to protect her face from the flying shards of glass. She sat up after a few seconds and reached for the knife Cas had given her, heart beating fast and her entire body ready for a fight. It took her a moment to recognize the figure that was slumped against the motel wall. Dean had already sprung from his spot on the floor to get to Cas.

“Cas? You okay?” he asked, shaking him lightly. Cas’ yes flickered open and he looked confused for a moment before his eyes lit up, furious.

“I’m going to kill him,” Cas said cryptically.

“Kill who? Cas, what’s with the fireworks?”

Claire stood up and got close enough to see that Cas looked relatively alright before sitting down on one of the beds and watching the conversation.

“Banishing spell.”

“What’re the chances you’d end up here?” Claire wondered out loud. She eyed the glass littering the floor. This was going to be a bitch to explain if they didn’t book it pretty soon. There was no way nobody heard that.

“Cas and I figured out a tattoo that channels the banishing thing so he pops up where I am,” Dean explained, twitching his arm slightly where Claire guessed the tattoo was. She wasn’t surprised she hadn’t noticed a new one, because whenever Sam or Cas thought up new wards at least one of the four of them would get new ink. Claire barely remembered what half of hers were for anymore.

“So Cas has an ‘if lost return to Dean Winchester’ tattoo? That’s so sickening I think I might just have to stab something.”

Dean glowered at Claire.

“Hey Romeo, what happened to not being a dick? Just because Juliet is locked up in his tower doesn’t mean that-“

“We need to get back to Crowley,” Cas interrupted, standing up and staggering toward the door. Dean pulled him back and Cas hit the wall hard, slumping back down and glaring up at Dean.

“No offense dude, but you don’t look so hot right now and I know for a fact your wings are out of commission for at least the next few hours,” Dean said casually. “Sam will be fine.”

“Sam’s not the only one in danger.”

“Hate to break it to you Cas, but if it’s civilians you’re worried about, if they’re possessed, they’re probably already dead.”

“No, two women I used to know. They’re hunters,” Cas said, pushing himself back up. “Ellen and Jo Harvelle. Crowley has them and Sam.”

Dean was silent for a moment before nodding. It had been a long time since he’d seen Ellen and Jo. A long fucking time and a lot of shit they were never going to know about, if they knew what was good for them. Dean wasn’t exactly thrilled to have to face two people that were so prominent in his life pre-black-eyes, but even demons had some sense of loyalty buried under every bit of fucked up hell made you.

“Okay, let’s go then,” Dean said, pulling on his jacket and tossing a duffel bag to Claire, who caught it with an annoyed look and proceeded to empty the drawers of her stuff. She didn’t have much, but what she did have she liked to keep, so she was always very thorough in making sure nothing was left behind. She always checked several times that the only picture she kept on her person was hidden in one of her books, so she could see her parents smiling faces every once in a while.

Claire, Cas, and Dean booked it out of the motel room as fast as they could before stealing the least conspicuous car they could find within a ten minute walking distance of their hotel. Castiel made sure to tell anyone who would listen that he was going to drive it back, though Dean told him they were doing the poor sap who owned it a favor, since now he could get a decent car. Claire had long since figured in the grand scheme of things, stealing a car probably wasn’t the worst thing she could be doing and why worry about the moral implications when the payoff is that the person it belongs to might not die from an early gruesome death. You’re welcome, random stranger.

The drive was quiet, and Claire was glad that Cas was too distracted worrying about Jo and Ellen to ask her about Jesse. Not that Jesse wasn’t relevant, because he saw Jo and Ellen as extended family in a way, since they were always stopping through Bobby’s house and asking after weird cases. Jesse wasn’t allowed to help in any hunts, but he was allowed to help with research and Bobby had taught him insane amounts of information, including several dead languages in addition to the three or four that Jesse spoke and could read that were still in use today. Claire felt herself smiling slightly and reminded herself that now was definitely not the time, and that she needed to get into a headspace in which she was prepared to hack up demons again.

Speaking of demons, Crowley was quick to take advantage of Castiel’s absence. He knew he had a few hours at least before the angel would be nipping at his heels again, likely with his Knight of Hell dragged along behind him. Well, Crowley would just have to move up his schedule a little. It would require a few more dead demons then he had wanted, but it would be worth it if he had Death bound to his command. In the meantime, why not test out another possible weapon that had been delivered right into his lap? He suspected a vessel strong enough to hold an archangel would likely have abilities that could be used against his enemies. Especially if one miss Jo Harvelle could harness the power of an angel while remaining her breakable little self.

“Struggle and I’ll pop mother dearest’s head off,” Crowley threatened casually to Jo as she and Ellen fought against the demons leading them inside Crowley’s current base of operations. His people had ended up simply knocking Sam out because there was no way they were going to be able to prevent him from getting free eventually. Crowley would kill him just to spite the angel, but he was a curious guy and he’d always found it prudent to know as much as you could about people and monsters that were extraordinary in some way.

“I’m going to cut out your heart, you fucking bastard,” Jo said, letting out a pained gasp when the demon behind her pulled her hair hard so she couldn’t look at Crowley. With many pairs of hands, Jo and Ellen Harvelle were restrained. Crowley waited a little while for the fear to build before taking out what he wanted to try on Jo.

“You see the chains we’ve got you in?” Crowley asked. “Those are Enochian. So don’t expect any heavenly assistance, and don’t expect to be able to overpower them.”

Crowley took out a syringe and a glass vial, filled with a bright white swirling mass. Jo stared between the two, uncomprehending. Crowley smirked and filled the syringe with angel grace.

“Little bird told me- well I say bird, I mean fallen angel- that this is the stuff that supercharges our feathered friends. This particular angel cut it out of herself so she could be human. I managed to snatch her from Lucifer’s demons when your brother turned the Apocalypse topsy turvy. The funny thing is, they hadn’t been looking for the right things. They wanted her to tell them what the angels were doing. Turns out no one had ever asked her where she her grace fell. I corrected that.”

“Nice speech,” Jo snarked, looking at the syringe warily. “I don’t know why you think I care.”

“Right. Down to business then,” Crowley said with a smile. A demon held Jo’s head back and Crowley injected the grace into Jo’s neck. As the grace flowed through her, Jo felt every cell of her body being filled with searing pain. She screamed, her body arching off the upright slab she was chained to. After several long minutes of nonstop screaming, the sensation had dulled enough that Jo hung limply, a slight glow emanating from her skin, the outline of wings flickering weakly on the wall behind her.

“Jo,” Ellen said frantically for the millionth time. Jo at long last raised her head and nodded at her mom to let her know she was okay. Ellen glared at Crowley, plotting just how the son of a bitch was going to die if she ever got out of those chains. And it wouldn’t be pretty, after whatever he was doing to Jo.

“Think you can take another shot?” Crowley asked. “I figure you can. You’re supposed to be able to handle an archangel, so I figure a few foot soldiers will amount to about the same.”

“Why are you doing this?” Jo asked weakly as she saw another syringe being filled with grace.

“You could be very useful to me, Jo,” Crowley said. “And if you don’t do what I say, I’ll let Alistair have your mother. He has been restless since his favorite chew toy escaped.”

Jo tried to twist away from the syringe, but the demon holding her head was too strong for her to resist him while her wrists and ankles were chained down. The second time was worse, and Jo screamed so long her voice started cracking and eventually she wasn’t screaming anymore, but the pain still had her body twisting and turning, trying to escape the torture of the grace filling her to bursting.

Crowley watched as Jo’s eyes lit up with grace and hoped he hadn’t reached the point that Jo couldn’t take anymore. Then again, if she exploded he would just do the same to Ellen. When Jo at long last collapsed against her constraints, Crowley filled a final syringe and injected his last vial of angel grace. Jo didn’t even stir, whatever increase in pain she was experiencing too far above her threshold for the difference to matter. As the last bit of grace filled her Crowley saw an overlay of three wings flash across the room. Jo’s eyes had taken on a permanent glow and her hair began to stand on end.

“Well, I’ve got Death to raise, so I’ll leave you ladies to it then,” Crowley said at last, after admiring his work for a few moments.

“Go to hell,” Jo gritted out, still unable to move from her slumped position.

“You first, darling.”

Crowley left after this parting shot and Jo tried to focus on breathing, inhale, exhale. She could hear her mother trying to reassure her, trying to get her to speak.

“Jo, baby, I’ll get you out of this, I promise,” Ellen said grimly. “And that demon is going to regret the day he was born.”

“Don’t worry mom,” Jo joked, each word a struggle to force past lips that just wanted to keep shouting until her throat was raw and unusable. “I’ve had worse.”

Not much worse, but worse. This pain had the upside of being indiscriminate. Not like Alistair, who would focus in and make it evident at all times how intentional each cut was, who would cut off an arm and still let you feel every little slice he made into it. Who would take you apart and put you back together a thousand times, always cutting slightly different patterns into your skin, playing God in the worst possible way. This was better than that at least.

Jo spent the next few hours fading in and out of consciousness, unable to take the pain for lengthy periods of time. Around two hours after Crowley had ended his experiment, she could feel an increase in pain on her left shoulder and she knew instinctively that Cas was close, that he was coming back. Jo lifted her head and felt power pulse softly out of her. She hoped that Cas could feel it. Whatever she was doing seemed to catch her mother’s attention and even Sam, who had been at the very least been pretending to be unconscious for a long while, reacted visibly, his eyes flying open.

Cas and Dean meanwhile were walking through crowds of demons who parted for them. Claire trailed behind them slightly, glancing warily around her. It was odd to be around such a large amount of demons and not have them try to attack her. Then again, these were Meg’s demons, and they wanted to stop Crowley just as much as they did. They weren’t exactly going to turn down help at this point.

“What am I going to do?” Dean asked Cas quietly. “I can’t get in unless these guys can.”

“So be it,” Cas said, grimly. “They’ve redone the wards. Claire is going to have to get us both in. I have something that will allow her to see the warding, and she can destroy as much as she can quickly. Claire?” Castiel added softly. Claire looked up at him and nodded, a determined expression on her face. “Be careful. If anything happens, run back over the barrier. Do you understand?”

“Got it,” Claire said. She took the glass Cas offered her and ran over the line before he could continue his warning or change his mind about allowing her to help. Claire weaved back and forth, destroying as much warding as she could manage as quickly as possible. It wasn’t long until she had company.

“Claire!” Cas shouted in warning. Dean hit him to shut him up so he wouldn’t distract her. Claire luckily knew exactly why Cas had shouted out and spun around, knife flashing and taking out the demon that had come to investigate the fading warding. Claire doubled her speed in destroying the warding, running deeper instead of along the perimeter as Cas had warned her too. Dean had subtly let her know this would be faster, even if the other method was slightly safer. She was close, she could feel it, when she went flying, her knife falling from her grip. A pretty blonde demon smiled down at her and Claire did her best to keep her wits about her.

“Exorcizamos te,” Claire started before the blonde demon narrowed her eyes at her, and lifted up her hand, visibly tightening her fist. Claire felt herself begin to choke, her vision dimming at the edges. The blonde demon got closer, laughing at the human spread out helpless in front of her. Claire let her get closer, and closer, and closer. Then when the blonde was as close as she was going to get Claire fought with all her will against the invisible bonds that held her immobile and used the glass Cas had given her to cut the demon’s throat. She was still alive, but distracted enough that Claire could reach for the knife she had dropped and stumble to the next warding symbol. No sooner had she destroyed it than she heard the distinct sound of wings and the sound of a scream followed by the bright light indicating that the blonde demon had been burned out of her meat suit. Cas flew to Claire’s side.

“Are you alright?” he asked worriedly. Dean was beside him soon, and Claire watched as the demons that had been surrounding the town flooded through, running as fast as they could to get to Crowley before he could raise Death.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Claire muttered. “Aren’t we supposed to be saving friends of yours?”

“Crowley needs to be stopped,” Castiel said, looking torn. Dean smiled and took out his own angel blade.

“I got it. You two go play search and rescue. I’ve got seek and destroy down pat,” he said, running after where the crowd was headed. When he got to the field Crowley and Meg’s demon were in an all out, no punches pulled battle, but Dean cut his way through effortlessly, making his way steadily toward the reigning King of Hell, who was chanting quietly removed from the fight. As Dean got closer, he lunged for the distracted demon, only to hit a wall. Dean looked down and groaned as he saw the Devil’s traps drawn surrounding Crowley. He watched, unable to advance as Crowley finished his spell. A series of dull yellow lights flowed across the field, each marking a dead demon. Dean felt the pull against his own soul, before whatever the spell was gave up and moved on to the next demon. The field was quickly filled with corpses.

“Does nothing kill you?” Crowley growled, noticing Dean for the first time. Dean smiled and winked cheekily.

“Ain’t I a bitch,” he said cheerfully. Crowley rolled his eyes and ignored the demon in favor of watching the pit he had dug for Death.

It was just at this moment that Claire and Cas reached the room that held Jo, Ellen, and Sam. The latter two were watching Jo warily, Ellen clearly scared that something terrible and irreversible was happening to her only surviving child.

“Claire, I can’t touch the sigils,” Cas said. Claire wasted no time attacking the metal shackles with her knife. Her methodical stabbing led to some slips and hits on Jo’s arms, which flared up light, but Claire kept going until Cas shoved her out of the way, able to finish the work himself. Claire went to free Ellen and Sam, but the moment Cas broke Jo from her restraints theirs fell too. Jo’s eyes flared brighter and she collapsed forward, Cas doing his best to hold her up.

“Jo, what did Crowley do?” Cas asked. Jo’s arms healed sluggishly, the grace that filled her working to keep her whole. “Jo, I need you to focus.”

“Grace,” Jo managed to mutter, trying to force herself into some kind of lucidity. “Crowley…”

Cas caught sight of the discarded syringe and stiffened at the implications. How many angels had Crowley taken out? How many of his brother’s had been murdered for their grace?

“Cas, please,” Jo said, voice soft and full of pain. “I can’t take it, please help me.”

Cas focused back in on Jo, surprised at the sudden trust she was placing in him. She used to trust him, but that was before… before Adam. Cas nodded and lifted up his knife slowly to her neck.

“This is going to hurt Jo,” he warned.

“Just make it go away,” Jo groaned. Ellen held her breath as she looked on, silently hoping with all her being that Cas could help her daughter. That he could do anything to make sure Jo got out okay. Cas cut a shallow line across Jo’s throat. The grace leapt to the surface and Castiel ignored the revulsion he felt at what he was about to do and opened his mouth, letting his brothers’ grace flow from Jo’s body to his. As the last tendrils left her, Jo’s neck started to bleed. Cas gently pressed the wound closed, healing Jo as thoroughly as he could manage. She let out a sigh of relief, letting her mother run up to her and hold her. Claire and Sam meanwhile stared at Cas in awe as he did his best to control the massive surge in power.

“You’re glowing,” Claire said, eyes wide with a wonder she’d thought she’d lost for angels. Even Sam, who couldn’t give a shit about whether Cas was supposed to be impressive was shocked by the sheer energy that rolled off Cas in waves.

“Take care of them,” Cas said, disappearing suddenly and without explanation. At this Sam and Claire seemed to recover.

“Yeah, thanks Cas, leave us to deal with them,” Sam muttered. “Not like I haven’t had to listen to Jo screaming for hours already.”

“He’s probably going to try to stop Crowley,” Claire pointed out.

“Because he did such a great job of that before. He’ll probably get caught in holy oil this time. Useless fucking angels,” Sam muttered. Claire just gave him a disapproving look and approached the two women huddled together with caution.

“We’re here to help,” Claire said gently. Jo looked up at her and pushed away from her mother, doing her best to stand straight through the tremors running up and down her body.

“Let’s go,” Jo said.

“I need to get you out of here,” Claire said, trying to reach for Jo. Jo glared at her hand until she dropped it, but Claire didn’t back down entirely, asking Jo with her eyes how she could help.

“I don’t know about you guys,” Jo said at last. “But I’m going to go teach that bastard Crowley a fucking lesson. So come with if you want, but I am not leaving.”

“Jo, you can barely stand,” Ellen said, her disapproval clear. Jo grit her teeth and moved around Claire to got to the doorway. The three other exchanged glances and hurried after her.

After Cas had disappeared he had made it to the field in time to see Death rising from the mass grave Crowley had built. Cas could practically feel the restless souls calling out for release from the earthly plane. As soon as Death raised his head, the ghosts of the women and children of Carthage were let go, like balloons cut from weights. Castiel, with the strange power of too much grace making the world painfully crystal clear could see the tenuous link that marked the bond Crowley had manufactured to control Death. Like a man possessed he walked forward until Crowley caught sight of him.

“Not quite quick enough, angel,” Crowley said, indicating with a brief nod to Death that he had won this round. Castiel could feel the chains surrounding Death and watched as the man he had appeared as eyed Cas curiously, a kind of hope apparent on his otherwise disinterested features. “Now apparently not even Death can kill your demon in shining armor, but I suspect he can kill you. Who knows, it might even be permanent. Isn’t that your dearest wish?”

“You do that Crowley, and there’s no place you will be able to hide from me,” Dean said calmly, staring the demon down. Crowley just raised an eyebrow and looked over at Death.

“Kill him.”

Death raised a hand to do so and Cas took his chance letting the excess grace that filled him reach out to the invisible bonds tying Death to Crowley. He felt the ties dissolve under his power and Death paused, a slight smile overcoming his naturally sour countenance. The next moment he removed himself from Carthage to get a burger from a small place outside Nazareth, Pennsylvania, leaving the two demons and the angel to sort out their own problems without bothering him about it.

“Bollocks,” Crowley muttered. Castiel reappeared next to him and reached his hand out to the demon’s forehead. His palm connected, but no power rose to smite the demon in front of him, and Castiel realized he had overexerted himself freeing Death. Crowley had flinched away from his hand, but seeing Cas couldn’t do anything with his grace at the moment quickly recovered.

“Guess you win this round, angel. See you next time around,” Crowley said, disappearing before Castiel could draw his knife. Castiel let his hand fall, fury running under his skin at the realization that it would likely be a long while before he had another chance to make Crowley pay for what he had done to Jo.

“Hey, Cas, want to let me out?” Dean asked, pulling Cas’ focus back from revenge to reality. Cas nodded, breaking the trap. As soon as the trap was broken he had arms full of demon.

“Dean,” Cas warned trying to push him away.

“C’mon Cas,” Dean said, a too sweet smile on his face. “You were just too damn good all high on power. It was hot.”

Cas rolled his eyes and pushed slightly harder. Dean fell back and groaned, playing up being upset that Cas wouldn’t kiss him. Dean got up, ready to pounce on the angel again when he felt something stab him. He turned around and saw Jo Harvelle for the first time in centuries for him. Hell time was weird.

“Joanna Beth Harvelle, could you not?” he said before he could stop himself. Jo’s eyes widened in surprise that Dean hadn’t been killed instantly and Cas was then standing between them, calming hands reached out toward Jo.

“He’s with me,” Castiel said. Jo’s mouth fell open before twisting into a hard line.

“What, haven’t you learned your fucking lesson. He’s a demon! You think whatever deal you’ve got going with him is going to end well?”

“That’s not how it is,” Castiel said, his voice rising to match her argumentative tone. “Besides, my choices are mine. I’m not involved in your life anymore, and if my choices lead to my own ruin, so be it.”

“God, how fucking stupid can you be? And what is it with you and demons? You can’t trust the bastards, you should know that Cas.”

“I don’t need your help, Jo,” Cas retorted. Jo clenched her jaw and turned toward Dean.

“So, what’s your glitch? You sympathize with humanity, too? Because I’ve heard that bullshit before from your kind and I know for a fact every demon is just out for themselves.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at the woman who in a past life had been like a little sister to him. He looked her up and down and picked the point that would tear her apart fastest, knowing instinctively the worst possible thing he could say to her. Probably he should just take the look she was giving him, but for some reason he couldn’t ignore the hurt that had welled up inside, somewhere past the layers of uncaring he had built up for himself in hell. Jo was part of his past and hit him so deep that he couldn’t think of any way to respond to the feelings she raised in him then to bite at her until she backed down.

“A little more time under the knife and you’d be just like me,” he said. Jo’s face went blank. Dean grinned. “Just a few more years, and your eyes would look just like mine. Bet you’d look good in black.”

“Dean, stop,” Cas said firmly. Jo started, the realization hitting her before Dean could stop it somehow. Fucking Cas, why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut?

“No,” she said, her eyes growing wide and sad. “No, not fucking possible.”

“What, you don’t like the new body?” Dean asked, flicking his eyes black. Ellen stared, having also realized exactly who was behind the face in front of her. “I thought he was kind of handsome. Dead now though, I slit his throat.”

Jo swallowed heavily.

“What happened to you?” she said quietly. “I knew that… we knew you’d made a deal but I never thought…”

“What that I’d turn? Everybody turns Jo. Everybody. I guess not everybody gets a personal rescue squad though. That was just you,” Dean said, a bitterness leaking through. Dean felt a tentative touch at his back and knew Cas was doing his best to nonverbally say he was sorry. Dean rolled his eyes. He was fine with what he was, he really was. He just couldn’t stand the fucking pity and revulsion he saw in Jo and Ellen’s faces. “Tell my mom you saw me, and you won’t like what happens,” Dean threatened before disappearing.

Claire tried calling him about an hour later. Dean ignored his phone, enjoying the view from the mountain he’d landed on. He wasn’t surprised when Cas showed up about an hour later. Probably to make sure he wasn’t going around stabbing people to take out his frustration. Well, Dean had done some of that, but they were vamps so it’s not like Cas could complain. Okay, maybe he’d killed a couple of serial killers too, but what Cas didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. Unless the serial killers became ghosts and started haunting the angel, but Dean doubted that was going to happens so he figured he was in the clear.

“I’m sorry for revealing your identity,” Cas said. Dean raised an eyebrow indicating Cas could sit next to him if he wanted to. Cas sat, staring down over the cliff. Dean resisted the urge to push him off, knowing that it would just bug Cas and not wanting the angel to be angry with him right then. Angry Cas could be fun, but Dean just wasn’t in the mood at the moment.

“They probably would have found out eventually,” Dean reasoned. Cas nodded, not looking at Dean. Dean smiled, very particular thoughts running through his head. “But if you want to make it up to me, I have some ideas.”

Cas rolled his eyes but kissed back when Dean’s lips met his. He knew that he shouldn’t be doing this, that it was wrong and twisted, that if Claire ever found out she would be angry and upset, and that perhaps it said something dark about him that he had fallen so completely for Dean. But, hey, Cas had had a hard life, and if God wasn’t going to come down from wherever he’d fucked off to and tell Cas face to face that he couldn’t have this, one of the few things that made him feel good, then Cas was going to take what he was being offered. Sure, there was no way this could end well. Dean was going to kill him someday, that much Cas knew for sure. Then again, the angel had always figured he’d die bloody and permanently at some point, and he’d honestly rather it be Dean, rather it be the result of a curse imprinted on the demon’s arm than know it was by the free will of his own brothers. That at least was a future that didn’t hurt quite so much to think about.

And Dean, well… Dean didn’t give much of a fuck about the future. He would take what Cas would give him, and the rest could just sort itself out. Because after all that pain in hell, why not find yourself a good time? And whatever other messy things Cas was to him- things Dean did his best not to think too hard about- the angel was definitely a good time.


	13. Where Art Thou Romeo?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I have written in forever. Got distracted by writing a different fic and then school demanded attention. Anyways, here is some more fucked up team free will for what is hopefully your reading enjoyment.

Well Dean hadn’t planned on this happening. He cringed as the holy water hit him full force and Bobby Singer came at him with a knife before recognizing him.

“What the hell are you doing, boy?” he huffed, breaking the Devil’s trap so Dean could move around freely.

“I got sick of Claire moping. Thought I’d check in and see if Juliet was planning on going against that dick angel and calling her again,” Dean said grabbing a beer from Bobby’s fridge.

“I wouldn’t drink that if I was you,” Bobby said. Dean sighed and replaced the beer.

“You’re a paranoid fucking bastard, you know that don’t you?” Dean asked. Bobby passed him a glass of hard liquor that Dean took with a slight nod of thanks. “Anyways, what’s the word on Jesse?”

“Sorry you had to waste a social call, but Jesse and Claire ain’t happening. Gabriel would flip a continent. None of us are really very happy with that angel of yours. He has a habit of messing things up.”

“Yeah, well sometimes things need to get messed up. Keeps things balanced. Besides, we’re not talking about angel family drama. We’re talking about star crossed kids that want to have some kind of meaningful fling before they ultimately break up for one tragic reason or another, only to reunite later for the sake of an unlikely happy ending.”

“I don’t know if you want to be using Romeo and Juliet for that one, kiddo.”

“Who says death isn’t a happy ending?”

Bobby shrugged and poured them both another drink.

“So were Ellen and Jo pissed you didn’t tell them I was back and better than ever?”

“What do you think?”

“I think they overreacted. I mean it could be worse. I could be a vampire. Now that would suck.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that so I don’t have to smack you,” Bobby snorted. They drank in silence for a while until Jesse showed up for some reason or other, which is what Dean had been waiting for.

“I can’t talk to her,” he said without preamble.

“Really? Why’s that?”

“Gabriel asked me not to.”

“What and you’re just going to take that?”

“Why do you care?” Jesse asked, sitting down on his couch and staring out the window. Dean mentally reminded himself to tell Claire to get better taste in men.

“I don’t. Figured I might as well visit Bobby here to get a proper drink and while I was at it tell you that you’re an asshole. Mission accomplished. See you next month Bobby.”

“Next time knock instead of trying to sneak your way in, you bastard. I’m sick of having to redraw the damn Devil’s traps.”

Dean flicked his eyes black and pointed to them.

“Demon, remember? I do whatever the fuck I want.”

“Expect more holy water next time then.”

“Holy water builds character.”

Dean then transported himself back to the motel room that Sam and Claire were staying in. He knew Cas was busy trying to find out if there was any truth in Crowley’s claim that certain angels had rebelled like he had and were fighting demons against Heaven’s orders. Unfortunately, it was difficult to determine since they were just as keen to hide from Heaven’s forces as Castiel was, and without knowing who exactly had rebelled, it was dangerous to make direct contact with any angels. So this had Cas chasing down any signs of angelic interference that he could find in an attempt to locate one or more of the angels. Dean hadn’t really cared about the politics of the situation, but Cas had assured him it was important that if enough angels had rebelled they organize so that Heaven had something keeping them in line and demons knew they could not wage war on Earth without interference.

Claire looked up hopefully before drooping back down a little.

“No dice, huh?” she asked.

“Sorry, kiddo.”

“Whatever.”

Sam gave Dean a look that indicated maybe he should have waited a few more hours before delivering the news because now Claire wouldn’t want to edit any of his notes. Well, Sam could edit his own damn notes for once. He’d gotten too used to using Claire’s insomnia as slave labor. Dean guessed Claire deserved a little disappointment, since she was the one who was being ignored, unlike Jesse who was just acting spineless. Honestly, Dean didn’t get why all of this was necessary. Angels were apparently more protective of their adoptive kids than most people were of their actual kids.

Still, he could think of a few things that would cheer Claire up, one of which he’d found in the newspaper that morning.

“Hey Claire, want to kill something?”

*******************

“I don’t like this,” Cas said for the umpteenth time. He had flown straight back once Dean had texted him what they were going to be doing. “She’s not ready.”

“She’s so ready. Did you see her when we were going up against those demons? I think she can handle one djinn.”

“And what about you? You’re willing to give up a hunt?”

“I’ve got my video games. I’m keeping on the straight and narrow. For now anyway.”

“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.”

“What? Do you want me to lie?”

Castiel sighed and looked over to where Claire and Sam were preparing silver blades with lamb’s blood.

“You don’t not care, Dean. As much as you’d like us all to think so. At times you’re almost human.”

“Gross. I’m going to take that as an insult. I am a badass demon and nothing is going to change that. If you want I can murder a few babies, just to prove my point.”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

Dean let Cas stand silently for a while before figuring now was as good a time to have this conversation as any.

“You can’t fix me. You know that, right?”

“I can try.”

Dean laughed a little in disbelief.

“That’s not how this works Cas. I’m not a damsel in distress, and I don’t need to be saved. So you can deal with my brand of fucked up or you can go back to trying to find out how to kill me. What we have right now works. Don’t push it.”

“Hey guys, you ready to get going?” Sam called from the other side of the room. Dean and Cas broke eye contact and Dean strode over to Claire.

“You ready, kiddo?”

“Definitely.”

“Okay. Just remember, don’t show off. Go for the kill, because that’s what the djinn will be doing. Don’t be afraid to fight dirty. Go for the eyes or the gut if it comes to hand to hand. And don’t let them touch you.”

“I know,” Claire said. “I told you, I got this.”

“Be careful,” Cas said.

“Don’t worry about me. Now are we going to do this or what?” Claire asked. Cas teleported her to the warehouse where the djinn was keeping his victims. “Awesome. No helping.”

“And if anything goes wrong-“

“I’ve got you on angel speed dial. I’ll be fine.”

Cas disappeared and Claire crept forward, searching through the building for the tell tale blue glow that she’d seen on hunts where she’d watched Dean or Sam locate the djinn. She got all the way to where several victims were hanging without encountering anyone. She knew from experience that the vics wouldn’t wake up until the djinn had been killed and she could get them an antidote, so she ignored the strung up bodies for now, instead standing dead still and listening. A rustling from her right had her turning just in time to catch sight of a glowing blue hand reaching out towards her. She ducked down and rolled away, the djinn just behind her. She spun around, brandishing the blade in front of her. The djinn made another lunge for her, which Claire deflected by knocking the hand away with her jacket before she stabbed up with the knife, impaling the djinn right through its chest. Bright blue light pulsed through its tattoos and eyes before fading to nothing and the djinn fell to the floor. Claire heard the slight rush that meant Castiel had appeared nearby.

“Did you see that?” she asked, excitedly. “Don’t lie you were doing your invisible thing, but did you see that?”

“Yes, Claire, I saw that,” Castiel said tiredly, but with a fond smile on his face. And Claire felt her excitement falter, because for a moment he looked so much like… but then suddenly Cas wasn’t smiling anymore and instead he was yelling a warning. It was like time slowed down as Claire turned to see what he was talking about and a second djinn reached out and touched her face.

*****************

“Claire?”

“Go away, Cas,” Claire mumbled into her pillow. God, she felt so tired. She opened her eyes for a moment and then stared at her arm, turning it over. No tats. The interweaving Latin, Enochian, Greek, and Egyptian symbols were all gone, her skin as smooth and pale as it had been when she was a child. “What the hell?”

“Language. If your mother heard you talking like that she’d have a fit. Now I need you to get up. You’ll miss class otherwise. It’s already nine and your lecture starts at ten.”

Claire stared at Cas uncomprehending until it all came rushing back at her and she realized exactly where she was. Shit.

“Right. Lecture. Uh huh, just give me a minute, uh, dad.”

It was a little astonishing how hard it was to trip over that word. Because of course it was Jimmy. She didn’t know how she hadn’t realized at first, except that maybe her strange and extreme tiredness had distracted her. The voice was different, hell the way they walked was different. Cas’ movements were almost too fluid, like he had once been rigid and was compensating, but her dad moved naturally, like he had in life.

“Alright. Just… I worry about you going out all the time, Claire. I’m glad that college is exposing you to new ideas, and its definitely healthy to question things, but… I don’t want you to throw your faith away just because it doesn’t have all the answers you might be looking for.”

Claire couldn’t help it. She started laughing. God, faith. What was this djinn even thinking? That this oblivious version of her father would make her happy. That she couldn’t remember the fucking sacrifice he had made in the name of faith? Jimmy gave Claire a concerned look but left her room with a passing comment.

“Laugh all you want, but it’s important to hold onto what’s important. Always remember that.”

“Right,” Claire muttered. “How the fuck do I get out of here?”

*****************

“Has it told you, yet?” Castiel asked. Dean just growled back at him, and plunged another silver free blade deep into the djinn in front of him, he shuddered in pain and refused to answer what kind of sigil he had burned into Claire so that the antidote didn’t work on her as it did the others. Cas had tried to heal her, but apparently monsters were collaborating with humans these days because it was a kind of witchcraft Castiel couldn’t overpower.

“I won’t,” the djinn gurgled out. “You killed my sister, well now you can see just how it feels. Do what you want with me. I just have to last a few days. What’s pain in comparison with revenge?”

Dean considered this for a second and then grabbed one of the silver blades he had prepared and stabbed it through the djinn’s right eye.

“It wasn’t going to tell us,” he explained at Castiel’s astounded look. “There’s another way. A buddy of mine, back when I was a hunter, he got taken down by a djinn. Worked out what was going on and killed himself in the dream. We just have to tell her to do the same.”

“And how exactly are we going to do that?”

“Could use African dream root.”

“Have you forgotten that none of us sleep, Dean?”

There was a beat of silence as Dean realized exactly what that meant.

“Shit.”

“And Claire is warded from angels and demons being able to dream walk. We have no way to contact her.”

***************

“Claire, sweetie, did you want toast?” Amelia asked her when Claire walked down, having picked the least offensive thing in her closet to wear. Who knew she’d be so into florals and lace? At least this version of herself didn’t fuck up the t-shirt and jeans look.

“Yeah. Thanks… mom.”

Claire was ushered into a seat and had a plate of buttered toast set in front of her. She picked at it a bit before taking a few bites. Her mom stopped hurrying around to look over at her.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“Is it that boy again? Sweetheart, if it’s meant to be, it’ll happen. You just have to let these things play out. Besides, I thought you figured something out last night.”

“What?”

“You went to that party, remember? You said you made up.”

“Right,” Claire lied. “Sure, sorry, I just was feeling a little blood sugar low. Nothing to worry about.”

“Here, take some orange juice. I have to head off to work, but your dad will drive you over to your campus for lecture.”

“Great.”

“See you later,” her mom said, leaning in for a hug. For a moment, Claire couldn’t help herself, and screw it if it wasn’t real she threw her arms around her mother and sucked in a deep breath. She smelled like perfume and soap, just like she had when Claire was younger. The tears came unbidden and Claire tried to wipe them away before the illusion noticed them. Why did everything have to feel so real?

“Really, baby, are you okay?” her mom asked, noticing she was crying.

“Fine. Just, it would suck if you were dead, you know?”

“That’s kind of a morbid way to think of things.”

“Yeah. Sorry. Go to work, I’m fine.”

Amelia Novak rolled her eyes and patted her daughter on the head.

“I’m sure I’ll hear all about it from your dad later.”

Jimmy did drive Claire to her lecture, and stopped just outside.

“We’re ten minutes early,” Claire pointed out.

“Your mom said you were crying this morning.”

“Just hormones, or something.”

Jimmy started tapping out a beat with his fingers on the steering wheel before turning to face his daughter.

“Claire bear, whatever it is, you know you can tell me about it. And I won’t be mad, I’ll just be extremely disappointed and probably disown you.”

Claire laughed a little at that. She decided not to think that she was laughing at her own joke, because she already was a teenage girl whose greatest thrill in life was murdering supernatural beings and she didn’t need to add laughs at her hallucination’s jokes to her list of ever so appealing qualities.

“I wish it really was you,” she admitted softly. Jimmy looked confused, reaching out and putting a hand on her shoulder. It was comforting, and Claire wanted to wish the feeling away.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just a hallucination. A wish granted. You’re not real.”

Jimmy sighed and let go of her shoulder before facing the front of the car again deep in thought.

“That’s true,” he said at last. Claire looked up in surprise, having expected him to call her crazy. Apparently there were failsafes in whatever kind of magic the djinn worked. “But you’re stuck here anyway. And I am real, in a sense.”

“You’re not him.”

“But you’ll be seeing him soon. I’m the next closest thing. Use me as practice. Get whatever you need to off your chest. It’ll be a while before you’re dead. These kinds of dreams can go on for almost a lifetime before a djinn needs to stop feeding.”

“I think I’ve got less than that. The djinn wanted to kill me.”

“Then time’s wasting.”

Claire thought about and then set her jaw and turned to her dad. Or the image of her dad.

“I don’t forgive you for leaving. Sometimes I think I get it, but… how could you love God more than us?”

“Claire-“

“No, how could you? You left us. You let something else take you over and you just disappeared. What was I supposed to think? You know the first thing Cas said to me was that he wasn’t my father? I thought you’d left me. Not mom. Me.”

“I’m so sorry Claire.”

“You don’t get to be sorry! You don’t get to be anything,” Claire said as she realized that she was fucking crying again.

“If it wasn’t us it would have been someone else. And Cas has explained to you before, I didn’t know what exactly it meant to become a vessel. If I had, I never would have left.”

“But you chose to let him stay. After mom died, before you…”

“If I cast him out, the world might have ended. My world might have ended,” Jimmy said, leaning forward to hug Claire close. Claire started sobbing into his side, unable to help herself. She knew it wasn’t real, she knew it. But he was just the same as the Jimmy she remembered. “I hope someday you can understand.”

Claire stayed like that for a moment, before reaching for the door handle and leaving the car. Jimmy waved up at her sadly, then rolled down the window so he could call after her.

“If you die before you come home, just know your mother and I love you very much,” he said, before driving away. Claire stared after him.

“Thanks. That’s super reassuring,” Claire said sarcastically, wiping the tears away from her eyes and focusing and getting her emotions back under control. She still had to figure out how to get out of here. She was just hoping her head would reveal some way to leave to her. So far, there hadn’t been much.

Claire wandered over to the buildings and fell into step with a girl she didn’t know who said her name was Louise. Apparently the two of them were best friends. Claire doubted the veracity of that statement, considering the sideways glances she got were a little bit unfriendly. In fact, a lot of the glances from her fellow classmates were less than happy. When she got out of here, Claire decided, she’d have to figure out why her subconscious made her a stereotypically girly bitch from every bad movie ever. There was no way this was really what version of her she’d thought she’d be happiest with. Maybe she should stop watching daytime television with Dean.

****************

“What if we got someone else to dream walk?” Dean asked desperately.

“We’re the only ones she trusts. For all she knows it’s a ploy to get her to actually kill herself.”

Dean desperately searched his mind for a solution, until he realized the perfect answer.

“I’ll be back.”

Dean transported himself to Bobby’s front door and opened it with a little bit of force. He was instantly met with a bout of holy water thrown in his face.

“Ow.”

“Well at least you used the front door this time. There’s still such a thing as knocking, though,” Bobby said.

“Do you just wait there, hoping you can throw holy water- you know what, I don’t want to know. Where’s Juliet?”

“Upstairs, sulking. His answer hasn’t changed though.”

Dean had already disappeared.

“Jesse.”

“Go away.”

“You listen here, fuckface. I don’t give a crap what angelic drama you think you need to stay out of. Claire is in trouble, and if you give a damn about her you’re going to come with me right now.”

Jesse looked away from the window to stare at Dean.

“What kind of trouble?”

“The kind that Cas and I can’t fix. She got hit by a djinn and she’s stuck in a dream world. There’s an extra whammy on it, and we can’t cure her the usual route. We need someone she trusts to tell her about the exit plan b.”

“What’s exit plan b?”

“She has to kill herself inside the dream to wake up.”

Jesse paused for a second.

“Why should I believe you? You’re a demon.”

“Oh yeah, because you’re a fucking unicorn, Mr. Antichrist.”

Another pause, shorter than the first.

“What if she doesn’t believe me?”

“Try!” Dean shouted. Jesse flinched. “C’mon, kid, she’ll die if you don’t do this.”

Jesse swallowed before nodding, sudden determination flooding his face.

“Take me to her.”

****************

Claire set her stuff down in the lecture hall and to her surprise Louise went off to sit with someone else. Well at least she wouldn’t have to deal with the annoying looks she kept giving her. The chair next to Claire was empty, which she figured was a lot more like real life than anything else had been so far.

That was until someone dropped into it and set his backpack on the desk in front of them.

“Hey babe,” Jesse said with a smile, before leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. “Your parents weren’t mad about you getting home late last night, were they?”

Fuck djinn. They could all go die slowly and painfully.

“I don’t want you here.”

Jesse seemed to catch on that she knew what was going on as quickly as Jimmy had.

“That’s not true. If you didn’t want me here, I wouldn’t be here. It’s not about what you want to want. It’s about what you ache for, deep down.”

“I liked talking to you. That’s it.”

“You wanted me to be here. To be fully committed. I am.”

“Shut up,” Claire said angrily, getting up so she could leave. Then she saw right there was Jesse, the real Jesse, staring at her shocked. She looked behind her and saw the other version, the dream version, looking unimpressed. No, this could not be happening. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Came to help out,” Jesse said, still staring. “Is that…?”

“No,” Claire said quickly. “It’s a fluke. It doesn’t mean anything. Now are you going to tell me how to get out?”

The room suddenly went dark, and all of the extra people disappeared, only the two Jesses and her parents suddenly there. Claire edged away from them.

“Are you sure you want to leave?” Amelia asked. “We can see into you. We know you. You’ve yearned for peace for so long. We can give that to you. And after a few days, or weeks, or years, you’ll get to see us again. The real us. Just because it’s happening in your head doesn’t mean it won’t feel like a fulfilling life.”

“And you can be with me,” Jesse pointed out. “Don’t deny it. You love him. But he’ll never be with you. Nobody ever really wanted you, Claire. But I will, I promise.”

Jesse, who had been staring transfixed felt himself tense up at this declaration. Was it normal to want to punch your clone right in his smug fucking face? He looked toward Claire and she looked so… convinced. What could he possibly say to her to sway her decision? This was the deepest darkest part of herself speaking to her. You couldn’t get more intimate than your own head. And deeply held beliefs weren’t dropped on demand, no matter how unfounded they might be.

Jimmy was the last to speak. He walked forward and looked down at Claire, the perfect image of fatherly love.

“We’re your family, Claire. Stay with us,” he said. For a long time, she didn’t say anything.

“You used to be. And someday I’ll see you guys again,” she said softly. “But my family’s out there now. And they are all kinds of fucked up, but I’ll take a crappy truth over some twisted fantasy any day of the week.”

Claire watched as the three figures faded, the lecture hall becoming fuzzy.

“We need to hurry,” Jesse said sounding alarmed. “Take this.”

Claire grabbed onto the knife he handed her and looked back at him, doing her best to focus on what she needed to, not thinking about what she had traded away. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.

“What do I do?”

“Kill yourself in a dream, you wake up.”

Claire nodded, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. The world around her kept fading and she stared at the knife in her hand.

“Claire, please,” Jesse pleaded. He curled his hands around hers and looked her in the eyes. “On the count of three, okay? One… two… three.”

The blade pierced through her skin and for a moment Claire thought she really was dying. Then she jerked awake and looked up at a familiar pair of blue eyes staring down at her.

“Claire?” Castiel asked. Claire sat up slowly and nodded. Dean, who had apparently been pacing the room turned slowly and started to grin. Sam looked up from his notebook and stopped a timer.

“Wow, I thought you were going to die,” he remarked in an offhand manner, earning a glare from both Dean and Castiel. “What? She didn’t have much time left considering the amount of venom the djinn put in her system.

“It’s called empathy, Sam,” Castiel pointed out. He looked like he was about to continue, but Claire had thrown her arms around him and was hugging him which distracted him greatly. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” she said thickly. Castiel patted her back gently, seeming unsure what to do. “It’s just been a rough day, that’s all.”

“Fifteen minutes,” Sam corrected. “Usually djinn time goes faster when you’re dreaming. The increased venom must have altered it. Would you mind answering some questions about what you saw?”

“Sam, do everybody a favor and shut up,” Dean said. Sam muttered something about everybody being so touchy and nobody acted like this when he almost died a couple of times. Claire ignored him for the most part because suddenly there was Jesse, standing in the corner and looking uncertain.

“Claire, can I talk to you?” he asked. He looked around at the three men in the room. “In private.”

“No thanks.”

“What are we going to pretend I didn’t see-“

“You didn’t see anything,” Claire said, the anger she had been feeling toward Jesse for weeks suddenly boiling over. “You don’t get to disappear from my life and then swoop in to save the day and demand answers from me. You’re the one who’s staying away, so I don’t owe you anything.”

Claire had been slowly advancing on Jesse as she spoke, and she noticed him swallow heavy for a moment before meeting her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

It happened quickly. Or slowly. Claire wasn’t sure which, but suddenly they were kissing and it was nice. Angry and apologetic meeting somewhere in the middle and coming out neutral, beautiful. And as much as she wanted to hate herself for leaning into it, for pulling Jesse closer, she couldn’t deny that she’d craved this feeling of being wanted. And Jesse pulled away once or twice to whisper in her ear that he did want her, and Claire hoped he meant it because otherwise the hope of it all might break her.

Cas’ eyes narrowed the moment Jesse kissed Claire, and Dean saw and grabbed his arm, dragging him away before he could get in a smite-the-new-boyfriend mood.

“Calm down,” Dean said when they’d gotten to a new room.

“Did you know about this?”

“What, you didn’t?” Dean pointed out. “Yes. And c’mon, don’t you think you’re being kind of a hypocrite? You don’t seem to have a problem with us fucking. Who cares if she hooks up with an antichrist?”

“Claire should not aspire to be like me. I’m hardly a role model. And neither is our relationship in any sense of the word a good thing.”

“Fuck, Cas. Tell me what you really think,” Dean said, a mock pout on his lips. “Too late about Claire not being like you, though. I mean, I can already see the matching righteous anger in her eyes.”

“I’m not her father.”

“No, but you’re sure something. And she’s going to care what you think about Jesse. So here are the ground rules. You don’t have to like it, but don’t be a dick. Having children is all about acceptance. Otherwise they grow to resent and hate you. I would know, I was once a troubled teen.”

“You would have had to been to sell your soul at eighteen.”

“Good times,” Dean answered with a laugh. “C’mon, what’s your issue here?”

“Jesse can control reality. He can control Claire, and I wouldn’t be able to stop him. How can I trust him, knowing that?”

Dean froze at that.

“Ward her from mind control. If he doesn’t agree to it, we figure out how to stab him.”

“I don’t know how.”

“I bet Gabriel does.”

“He won’t agree to this.”

“There are ways-“

“You are not torturing another one of my brothers. Ever.”

Dean relented, but he kept his mind spinning. Maybe a little holy oil and participation from Romeo and Juliet themselves and the Montagues and Capulets could put their little dispute to rest. He just couldn’t let Cas catch onto his scheming.

“Okay, sure thing Cas. Any more orders for today?”

“None I’ll say with Sam and Claire in the next room.”

“I like the way you think, angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sticking to characters from seasons four and five as far as I can tell, but I'm considering adding in angels we meet later. Thoughts? Should I just stick to the seasons 4 and 5 feel?


	14. Runaway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya. Sorry for not writing for a while, got distracted by other things. Anyways, here's a chapter and another one should be posted soon.

It was in the middle of a haunting case that Jesse showed up out of nowhere, a backpack strung across his shoulders. He released the ghost with a wave of his hand, stopping the fighting almost effortlessly.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” Dean demanded, pissed off that he couldn’t continue swinging an iron crowbar as they waited for Sam and Claire to burn the bones. Cas had been reading a magazine that the family who was being haunted had left in the dining room.

“I…,” Jesse hesitated. “I thought I was helping.”

“Well now I have to play video games all night so I don’t feel like killing anybody,” Dean said back, throwing the crowbar down hard enough that chips of the wood floor went flying. Cas sighed, but didn’t say anything about the destruction of property, because it could have been the destruction of human beings and Dean needed some kind of outlet for his violent impulses. “So you weren’t very helpful. Besides Claire’s not here.”

“Sorry. I would have gone straight to her, but she's too well warded for me to find without texting her and I was kind of in a hurry.”

“Why is something wrong?” Castiel asked. He had been listening in to angel radio sometimes, when he felt he might be able to get away with it, and there had been some confusion recently that had been worrying. Cas had still been unable to locate other angels that had defied Heaven, though if the growing panic in Heaven meant anything, their numbers were increasing. “Do you need our assistance in any way?”

Jesse took a deep breath and hitched his backpack a little higher on his shoulder. Inside was everything he had cared to take with him, including several t shirts, a few pair of jeans, and copies of lore books that Bobby wouldn’t miss.

“I’m running away.”

For a few moments, Dean and Cas processed this information.

“You can’t run away,” Cas said. “Do you have any idea what Gabriel will do when he sees you are missing? Do you really think he won’t know exactly where you’ve gone?”

“Hey Cas, don’t be hard on the kid. I ran away from home a few times and I turned out fine.”

“You sold your soul and became a knight of hell.”

“You know what? You’re right. I turned out better than most people.”

Cas glanced at Jesse who was standing awkwardly listening to the two of them fight. He swallowed heavily before looking down.

“Gabriel found out I’d been seeing Claire and flipped out. He’s been so busy with all of the angels who were leaving that he didn’t notice at first, but-”

“Which angels?” Cas interrupted, suddenly razor focused. Without knowing which angels were rogue, he didn’t want to risk contacting anyone directly. He was more than slightly aware that if they attempted to hurt him in any way that Dean would not hold to the ban on harming angels. “Jesse, did Gabriel tell you which angels?”

Jesse shook his head. Cas sighed in frustration, angry that he still had no way to contact those of his brothers that had left heaven in favor of fighting demons. Perhaps it was unwise to make contact, but he had to know why they were doing. Whether a seed had been planted in heaven, and his brothers were changing, adapting to a world without a grand plan or God.

“Wait, maybe,” Jesse paused for a second. “If I tell you can I stay?”

“No.”

“Please, I’m tired of being on the sidelines. I’m tired of sneaking out when Bobby is busy. I’m tired of worrying that Claire might get herself killed on a case and that I’ll never know what happened to her. Please, let me stay.”

“I can’t control you if you have an outburst,” Cas insisted. “I can’t stop you from hurting people. Whether or not that’s on accident is irrelevant.”

“Cas, we’ve known Jesse for months. How many freak outs has he had since the day we met him? And he only killed one person that time. He’s hardly a menace.”

“And what if he and Claire get in a fight?” Castiel insisted. “He could annihilate her with a thought, Dean. We’ve talked about this.”

“Yeah, I know, but I figured you’d come around, besides-”

“Dean managed to find something that would help,” Jesse interrupted, glancing at Dean. Cas’ expression clouded over further when he realized that Dean had been helping Jesse plan to run away. Jesse opened his backpack, showing off two bracelets with sigils woven in them. “They’re the same sigils Meg used. I can take them off when I need to, but I won’t be a problem for Claire. I swear on my life I would never do anything to hurt her,” he started speaking faster, seeing that Castiel still wasn’t answering. “They also ward against location spells. Really, I won’t be any trouble, and I can help with cases, and-”

“I said no,” Castiel shouted, a lamp nearby to him blowing out. Jesse hung his head and disappeared without saying anything further.

“Way to blow your fucking top, Cas.”

“I don’t want to speak with you right now.”

“I bet you don’t. Because you know that I know why you’re acting like this. And cut the bullshit about being worried about Claire, not that you ever stop worrying about Claire, but you know Jesse isn’t going to hurt her. You know. The only reason you don’t want him around her is because you don’t like what he is.”

“An antichrist.”

“Sure. And I’m demon, in case you didn’t remember.”

“I can see your true form. It’s not as though I can forget.”

“Oh, but you wish you could,” Dean said with a bitter laugh. “You wish it was the vessel and the charm that gets you hot under the collar, but it’s not. You get off on how broken I am, fucking admit it. And the reason you’re trying to keep Jesse from Claire is because you’re afraid she’s just like you. Always falling for things you’re not supposed to want.”

“I don’t get off on it,” Castiel said quietly. “Dean, if there was a way to repair what’s been done to you…”

“I’m not a victim, Cas. And I’m not a hero. I’m one of the monsters. And you still keep coming back. Tell me again that you don’t get off on it,” Dean paused for a moment before shoving Cas against the wall hard enough to leave an angel sized dent. “Tell me it’s not better because you hate everything I am. C’mon, Cas, lie to me. I want to hear you.”

Castiel could tell that the situation was rapidly deteriorating, and didn’t have any particular desire for an all out fight in the middle of some poor family’s house. He simply didn’t have the energy to fix everything. If only Jesse hadn’t interrupted the case when he did, Dean might be behaving a little less violently. But Dean needed some way to get out the pent up aggression carrying the mark entailed, so Cas transported them to a fairly secluded desert and was soon after met with a right hook to his jaw. He pushed Dean away, not bothering to fix the damage, and grappled with the demon until his need for violence began to fade. They hadn’t fought like that since before Claire suggested the video game idea.

Dean grimaced, teeth red with blood, and couldn’t quite force himself to glance at Cas to see the damage he’d inflicted. There was something like shame in Dean’s expression but he didn’t apologize, just helped the battered angel to his feet and started talking again as though nothing had happened.

“Claire’s going to be upset. She wants Jesse around. You have to get that at least.”

“Claire has no idea what she wants,” Cas said, flying away without checking to see if Dean would follow. He knew he would.

Elsewhere, Claire was making a difficult decision.

“Pick what you want, Claire, or we’re leaving,” Sam said, ignoring the freaked out look on the man’s face who was taking their order. Perhaps going to a twenty four hour place at three in the morning covered in dirt and smelling like a campfire wasn’t the best idea in the world, but the up side was that fast food places usually saw a lot of shady shit and never bothered reporting it, so they were likely safe.

“Chocolate milkshake,” Claire said at last, rolling her eyes at Sam’s impatience. Sam forked over a couple of dollars and Claire took her milkshake before they went back to the car.

“Shouldn’t Dean or Cas have called by now?” Claire asked.

“It was a ghost. I think they’ll be okay,” Sam said dismissively. “If they aren’t they deserved to go.”

“Wow, you’re cheery today,” Claire said, talking a large sip of her milkshake. “Did Dean super glue your notebook shut again?”

“No,” Sam muttered. “I just hate dealing with ghosts. It’s not like you can torture or reason with Casper, so we have to research these jobs, spend so much time, and I don’t even get any new information out of it. I mean, I’m not even exactly sure what the rules are for why ghosts stick around sometimes. It’s not even always DNA, and we can’t ask them any questions because they’re too busy trying to kill us.”

Claire raised an eyebrow and took an extra long swallow of her milkshake before responding.

“Your life is so hard.”

“I think you sometimes forget that Cas is the one that has trouble with sarcasm, not me.”

“Cas has no problems with sarcasm. He just likes fucking with you and you still haven’t noticed.”

Claire smirked as Sam processed this before shrugging and deciding he didn’t really care.

As they were driving, Claire’s phone started buzzing. She took it out and smiled when she saw it was Jesse.

“Hey, what’s up?” she asked, after sliding her finger across the screen and lifting the phone up to her ear, ignoring Sam mocking her out of the corner of her eye.

“It didn’t work.”

“What do you mean it didn’t work?” Claire asked. Then she realized what he was talking about. “I was supposed to be there when we talked to Cas. Why the hell would you go ahead without me?”

“I know. I wasn’t thinking. Gabriel found out how often I’d been sneaking out and he’s been checking in like crazy recently. I didn’t know when I’d get another chance to leave.”

Claire looked over at Sam who was obviously listening in, and glared. Sam smirked, amused at her annoyance and continued to listen.

“Where are you right now?”

“Australia.”

“Look, I’m on I-99 we passed mile marker 30 a little while back-”

“Hey.”

Claire turned around to see Jesse in the back seat and hung up her phone.

“Hey.”

“I didn’t mean to screw it all up, Claire, honest to God.”

“No, I know,” Claire reassured him. “Just let me talk to Cas. He’ll understand. Sam, are we meeting them back at the motel?”

“That was the idea,” Sam said. “Is this what you and Dean have been plotting about while Cas was looking for rogue angels?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay,” Sam said, thinking for a second. “But why would Dean want to help you? Shouldn’t he want to stay on Cas’ good side?”

“Me and him have an understanding,” Claire said. “He makes sure Cas is cool with Jesse and I don’t say anything bad about…”

“Dean and Cas?”

“Essentially.”

“Why not just leave? I mean, before you didn’t have anywhere to go. Now you do. If Cas won’t do what you want, you can always just go.”

Claire didn’t answer, just stared out the window for a while. She hadn’t even thought of that. It was troublesome, sorting through how she felt about Cas at any given time. Sometimes it felt as though he were all she had, even with Jesse, and sometimes it felt like he were the sole reason for her unhappiness. And she knew that Jesse had left his only family for her, and maybe it was wrong that she wasn’t willing to do the same, but the idea of separating herself from Castiel was unappealing enough that she tried to clear it from her thoughts. Cas would understand. He had to.

When they got back to the motel, Jesse offered to stay in the car, but Claire shook her head and confidently took Jesse’s hand before walking into the room. Dean and Castiel were sitting on opposite sides of the room not looking at each other, and although Cas looked fine, Dean had a black eye and split lip, and there were growing bruises on his arms. Claire stared, confused why he hadn’t fixed his meat suit.

“You okay Dean?” Claire asked, indicating his face.

“The ghost got a few good hits in,” Dean lied. Jesse opened his mouth to contradict the statement, but a sharp glance from Dean had him shutting up.

“And you didn’t fix your face because…?” Claire asked.

“Chicks dig scars.”

“Right,” Claire said hesitantly, deciding she’d get to the bottom of whatever was happening later. She looked over at Cas and cleared her throat, catching his attention. He hadn’t yet said anything about Jesse being there, despite sending him away earlier, and Claire decided to take that as a positive sign. “Cas, can we talk?”

Cas nodded, and the next moment the two of them were sitting in Dean’s car, out of earshot of everyone else. Cas stared straight ahead waiting for Claire to start speaking.

“I know about you and Dean.”

Cas closed his eyes and leaned his head back, taking a deep breath. At last he turned to face Claire, expression carefully blank.

“This isn’t about me and Dean. This is about keeping you safe.”

“And who helped do that, when I was stuck in a djinn dream?” Claire asked, exasperated by Castiel’s insistence that he keep her insulated from certain aspects of the supernatural world. “And just because I’m human doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself. That I can’t think for myself.”

“I know you can take care of yourself. And with several years living without a real home, I’m sure you learned certain things the hard way when it comes to trusting other people. But Jesse is different, Claire. He isn’t human. You can’t ask for help against him, or leave him if he wants you to stay. I’ve met many men and women who think themselves above taking control of others in that way, but feed them the slightest bit of power and they don’t hesitate manipulate anyone and everyone in order to make their lives easier. You’re strong and capable, but Jesse could change that with a thought.”

“But he won’t.”

“He could.”

“No he couldn’t,” Claire said, trying to keep the irritation in her voice to a minimum. “Haven’t you noticed that he left his family for me, not the other way around? Or that if he really wanted to, he could have made me stay the first time he met me. Or any time after that. He has never taken advantage of me, and I don’t think he ever will. Besides, he’s willing to give up what he can do to be with me. He told me he’d get the sigils tattooed on his wrists if it meant I was safer,” Claire paused for a moment, gearing herself up to admit something difficult. “I love him, okay? And it’s a hard thing to feel, because the idea of being a prisoner in my own mind, that’s my worst nightmare. But I’m still not afraid of him, even knowing exactly what he could do to me. Don’t you get that?”

“This isn’t about Dean and me,” Castiel repeated, bristling at the accusation behind her words. His tone softened as he continued. “And I’m sorry you had to find out. It was never my intention to hurt you.”

Claire didn’t honestly know how she felt anymore, about Dean and Castiel. At first it had been like a hit to the gut, and she’d railed against the idea, ignored it when she could. But as time had gone on, and she’d grown closer to both Dean and Cas, she’d begun to realize how fundamental the two were to each other. It didn’t take away the pain of seeing her father’s face looking at someone else the way Jimmy had looked at her mother, but Claire knew that her parents were in heaven together. Of that, Castiel had often reassured her, smiling sadly as he had informed Claire that soul mates always shared a heaven.

“It’s… it’s okay,” Claire said at last, surprised that she mean the words. “I just want you to understand that I can’t just stop seeing Jesse. I know this must all sound stupid to you, you’re older than the freaking dinosaurs, but this feels like the real thing. And honestly, I don’t know how many chances at that I’m going to get. And I don’t want to leave all of you guys, I really don’t, so I’m asking you, please don’t make me choose. And I promise, I won’t make you choose either.”

Castiel is silent for so long that Claire feels anxious, intermittently glancing at Cas and her hands clenched into fists in her lap. At last Castiel spoke, his voice hesitant but enough to convince Claire that he meant what he said.

“He needs to wear the bracelets at all times. And we can’t stay anywhere more than a week, because Gabriel will be able to track me down, even if he can’t find you or Jesse. And he can’t use his powers on cases-”

Cas was interrupted when Claire flung her arms around him to hug him. He hugged her back, trying to swallow his fear that Jesse would hurt Claire irreparably and it would be all his fault.


	15. E.T. Go Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, two chapters in one day. It's almost like I have no schedule.
> 
> In any case, hope you enjoy!

It was the frogs that had put Castiel on edge. He didn’t like the implications of a plague, and wasn’t keen to place Jesse anywhere near angels in the near future, so he had decided to investigate the case alone. Luckily, Claire and Dean were in the middle of a days long tournament of who was the best mini-golfer and weren’t too concerned when Castiel disappeared for long stretches of time. Sam was more curious, but tended to take what Castiel said at face value, unable to discern whether Castiel was lying without help from Claire or Dean. If Jesse suspected anything, he wasn’t willing to make waves so early after Castiel had relented in letting him stay with Claire. It was actually a kind of relief to leave, because Dean was still wearing the scars of their most recent fight, and Castiel couldn’t bear to look at them for any length of time. It didn’t seem to matter that he knew that the wounds had been inflicted in self defense, or that Dean’s intention wasn’t to blame him. It was a kind of penance, pure and simple, but he didn’t want penance from Dean. Then again, what did a demon know about forgiveness besides pain?

In any case, it wasn’t hard to figure out that it was an angel that was terrorizing the small town. Perhaps terrorizing was too harsh a word, but whoever it was clearly wasn’t very considerate of human lives, since several of the townspeople had died from plague like symptoms. Castiel’s own time in Egypt was blurry and difficult to remember, but when he pushed at the memories, he knew there was great pain there and didn’t want to see it repeated.

He left his name in Enochian on a wall where the most recent plague had seemed to originate, based on the magic’s resonance. It told the angel to meet him when the moon was high that night. Castiel disappeared soon after, knowing that the other angel would not appear to see what had been written until he was no longer there. It was likely that whoever it was still wouldn’t show their face after seeing his name, but he’d rather be avoided than corner an angel that feared him for any reason.

When he returned that night, nobody was there and Cas was disappointed despite the fact that result was not unexpected. His disappointment cleared when an unfamiliar voice that belonged to a well loved friend spoke from behind him.

“Cassie, it’s been a while.”

“Balthazar?” Castiel said, turning slowly. At the sight of his friend’s true form, pressed into a new vessel he grinned. “I thought you’d died, you bastard.”

Balthazar grinned back, pleased to see that Castiel was glad to see him.

“I’m offended. You really think Samandriel could take me out? The poor fledgling couldn’t swat a fly if he were an archangel.”

“Samandriel tried to…?” Castiel asked, confused. Balthazar and Samandriel had been friends in heaven. And Jesse had informed him that Samandriel had been the only name he’d ever overheard Gabriel mention in relation to angels who had left heaven. Despite this, Castiel still hadn’t felt he could risk contacting the other angel. “But why-?”

“Oh, Cassie, I forget. You have no idea how bad it really is in heaven right now. There’s a reason so many of the angels are leaving. Or did you not know that?”

“I was aware. I haven’t been able to locate any angels recently.”

“I’m not surprised. Everyone’s paranoid. It’s a civil war up there, and no one knows whose side anyone is on. You should hear what they say about you. Half of heaven’s convinced you’re the next Lucifer and the other thinks you’re some sort of angelic Messiah. Now, I find the speculation funny because the first time you tried to fly you ended up in the middle of the sun, but I suppose that just adds to your underdog appeal.”

“Will you never let that go,” Castiel groaned. He sobered soon after though and thought through what questions he would need to ask. “Who has rebelled?”

“Samandriel was the first. I,” Balthazar paused, looking sad. “I hurt him pretty badly when he tried to kill me. I didn’t know why he was doing what he was doing. I couldn’t understand it. I never suspected…”

“Suspected what?”

“Castiel, the corruption in heaven is beyond what any of us ever knew. The pain that Samandriel went through, when I… it broke through programmed instinct. And when I say programmed, I mean commands carved into his grace. And he suddenly remembered it all. I always thought that those of us who disobeyed were killed, but the truth is so much worse.”

“You knew they torture those that don’t follow orders,” Castiel pointed out.

“Not like this. What they did to Samandriel, that couldn’t be God’s will. And his story spread through heaven like wildfire. No one knows who to believe. No one knows who’s telling the truth, who might be under another angel’s control. Heaven is chaos. Those that have completely cut ties and left is small, but it is growing.”

“How do you know all of this?” Castiel asked next. “I doubt you’ve been back to check in.”

“Right, that’s bloody likely,” Balthazar snorted. “I don’t exactly fancy being smited by Michael or Rafael for testifying in your favor after what you did to Adam Harvelle. I wasn’t well liked after that.”

“I never did thank you,” Castiel said wryly.

“Well, you were wiped from existence, so I suppose I forgive you,” Balthazar said back with a wave of his hand to match his flippant tone. “I’ve been checking in with the rebel base. It’s good to see family. Inias, Rachel, Hannah-”

“Hannah?”

“Yes, shocking I know. She always seemed so obedient. Then again, so did you before you fell for that mud monkey.”

For the first time since the conversation had started, Castiel felt irritated with his friend.

“Don’t speak about Jo that way.”

“Still smitten?” Balthazar prodded. Castiel glared at his friend. “I’m sure it put a bit of a damper on things when you murdered her brother but-”

“Jo and I are not, nor have we ever been involved.”

“Oh, I believe you,” Balthazar said, tone indicating the opposite. “Rumor is you’ve lowered your standards. Dean Winchester, Knight of Hell, ringing any bells?”

“I don’t know what you’re expecting from me here.”

Balthazar looked back to the wall where Castiel’s name was written.

“You see that, Cassie? That’s your language. We’re your family, and there are those among us that want you to come home. I don’t know what responsibility you seem to feel towards a demon and a couple of mud monkeys, but trust me, it is not a burden you need on your shoulders. You’ve already saved the world. You’ve done enough. Come home. Or at least the next best thing.”

“And if I don’t want to?” Castiel questioned. “Balthazar, you are the exception not the rule. The angels don’t want me. And I’ve found something else that works. Disparage them all you like, but that demon you find so hateful has been more loyal to me than some of my closest brothers.”

“Oh so this is about Gabriel, isn’t it?” Balthazar said. “You’re still sore he turned you in.”

Castiel felt a deep hurt at Gabriel’s betrayal being so thoroughly dismissed and disappeared without another word. He hadn’t expected to be followed.

“Cas,” said Dean happily, seeing the angel had just appeared. Then he noticed another angel standing behind Cas, looking slightly pissed off. He spoke cautiously. “Who’s your friend?”

“More than a friend, pet,” Balthazar said, seeming to find a kind of satisfaction in how the misleading words made the demon tense up suspiciously, looking between him and Cas. “Best of friends.”

“Why did you follow me?” Cas asked, irritated that Balthazar hadn’t taken the hint.

“Your little storming off in the middle of a fight trick got old millennia ago.”

“Question: which angel is this?” Sam asked, his notebook already out.

“Balthazar. One Z thank you,” Balthazar said, seeming amused at the human’s attention. “So, that must be the soulless one. I’ve heard stories about you. And you’re the vessel’s daughter,” he said, looking at Claire who still had a golf club in her hands.

“His name was Jimmy,” she answered with narrowed eyes, her grip tightening slightly on the club.

“And if that is who I think it is, you’re in a world of trouble, Castiel,” Balthazar said, indicating Jesse. “Well this has been fun. Glad to meet the rebound, the fake daughter and the tag alongs.”

“Stop talking,” Castiel said, anger starting to turn to a kind of fury. He didn’t understand why Balthazar would be so hurtful, but his friend’s expression seemed to soften by shades, until at last he spoke again to Castiel.

“Nothing’s changed. I will always stand by your side, no matter the foolish decisions you make,” Balthazar’s eyes flicked across present company to indicate exactly which foolish decisions he was referring to. “Just know, if you want to go home, the angels you’re looking for are at a holy river in Minnesota for the next few days. I hope you’ll reconsider all of… this.”

And then Balthazar disappeared, leaving four faces staring at Castiel in shock.

“What did he mean by rebound?” Dean asked, breaking the silence.

“Is that really all you got from that exchange?” Castiel asked, irritated by the possessive undertones to Dean’s question. Before long, the flood gates had opened and Sam, Dean, and Claire were all demanding answers from him. Answers he didn’t have and answers he didn’t want to give.

“Guys,” Jesse interrupted, seeming to sense Castiel’s hesitance. “Maybe you should back up for a second.”

Three pairs of disbelieving eyes turned to him but Jesse held his ground.

“Things in heaven are complicated,” Jesse explained, his eyes granting Castiel sympathy as he defended the angel. “And I don’t think jumping down Cas’ throat is going to help right now.”

Castiel felt a rare gratitude for the boy at that instant. He was the only one in present company that had any understanding as to how confusing it was to have a family that required so much care in how they were dealt with. Angels, so quick to anger and slow to forgive. Somehow willing to take incredible amounts of abuse, but stray from the path once and they would turn their backs on you without a second thought. Castiel had been on Earth only a few years, and the complexities of humanity were barely within his grasp, so he knew that the eccentricities of what it meant to be an angel were beyond any human or demon.

“Fine,” Dean said. “Let’s start simple. Who was that?”

“Balthazar. He is an old friend of mine. I had been under the impression he died shortly after I did when I disobeyed,” Castiel said tiredly. “I found him working a case.”

“You didn’t tell us you were working a case,” Dean accused.

“I could tell it involved angels and I didn’t want Jesse near them. In case you don’t remember, we are still very much on the run from Gabriel. Besides, I didn’t know who it was. If they decided to begin a fight, I wasn’t sure I could trust you not to make an attempt on their life.”

“How many times have those douchebags killed you, and I’m the one you can’t trust?” Dean asked.

“Don’t be childish. You know what I mean.”

“Okay, but Cas,” Claire interrupted. “Haven’t you been looking for rebel angels?”

“Yes,” Castiel answered, eyes never leaving Dean as the demon twitched with anger. Cas thought he could almost see the light glow of the mark. “That had been my intention.”

“Well, now’s your chance, right?” Claire said. “I mean maybe they’ll understand, isn't that what you wanted?”

Castiel sighed. Claire didn’t understand the difficulties with what she had proposed. His brethren may accept him back, but not without sacrifice. Not without giving up the life he had managed to stumble upon. Yes, he had been searching out the other angels, perhaps chasing some kind of forgiveness, but after his encounter with Balthazar he was only just beginning to understand what reconnecting with his family might mean.

“Cas,” Jesse said carefully, drawing the angel’s attention. “You should see them.”

“Well, I don’t like it,” said Dean. “For all we know this a trap.”

“It’s not a trap.”

“Yeah, well you trust too easily. That’s why Gabriel could screw you over. And Crowley. C’mon you didn’t even think Claire would do anything behind your back with her boyfriend. She’s a teenager, it’s practically programmed in to disobey any kind of authority.”

“Hey!” Claire said, sounding halfway between guilty and angry.

“Just saying. If you’re going, you’re not going alone.”

Castiel considered the options. Jesse needed to be away from the angels, that much he still thought. And he definitely wouldn’t risk Claire being anywhere near them. Likewise, despite the fact that Sam would likely very much want to go to ask questions from the angels, he wasn’t very delicate. Then again, neither was Dean. Castiel would prefer to go alone if he could, but he doubted that Dean would let him out of his sight over the next few days. He could always not go, but denying curiosity had never been a strong suit of his.

“Fine,” he told Dean. “Sam, you can manage looking after Jesse and Claire for a day or two, can’t you?”

“I’m not babysitting them, but if something tries to attack us, I’ll call.”

“You inspire such confidence,” Castiel muttered. “Claire, I will be back.”

He noticed the confused expression on her face, but did not stay to explain what he meant by the statement, instead flying a few miles from Baptism River in Minnesota. Dean was next to him a moment later, still twitchy and angry looking.

“Do you need to…?” Castiel asked, referring to Dean’s keyed up state. Dean visibly worked to calm himself, the glow around the mark fading until it was nothing.

“I’m fine. Actually, I was hoping you could answer my question from earlier.”

“I still don’t know how much wood a wood chuck could-”

“Cut the crap, Cas. Who was that guy?”

“I told you, Dean. And he wasn’t referring to himself when he said rebound.”

“Who was he talking about?”

Castiel sighed, continuing in his silent assessment of where it was most likely the rogue angels had set up. He suspected an abandoned office building about a mile from where they were was his best bet. He began to walk that direction before answering.

“He meant Jo. Many in heaven were under the impression that I felt things I shouldn’t towards her. Loyalty. Respect… Love.”

“Did you?” Dean asked, less angry and more curious, now. Jo was different than some douchebag angel that appeared out of thin air. He knew Jo as well as he knew the back of his hand. Well, not this hand, the one he’d had in his original body. More than that, he knew the divide between her and Castiel was wide, and not one that threatened whatever hold he had on the angel.

“What’s love, Dean?” Cas asked, a slight laugh leaving his lips at the question. “In all honesty, I still don’t know. That’s a human thing. I’m not human.”

“You’re so full of shit.”

“Why? Because I play at being human? I’ve participated in its depravities, fair enough, but that doesn’t mean that I know what it’s like to feel… more. Sometimes I suspect, but…”

“Is that what I am to you, then?” Dean asked, eyes flashing, unconsciously touching the mark on his arm. “Sex? Is that it?”

“Is that not what I am to you?” Castiel asked, knowing the question was cruel. Seeing the answer written as unhealed injuries on Dean’s body, a silent apology for feelings Dean likely didn’t care to analyze. “Or am I punishment? Is that what you’re after? Deep down, past the scar tissue, you still care. I can see it when you speak to Claire. When you tell me stories about your mother. Your allowance of Sam’s inquiries, no matter how they irritate you. There’s a part of you that rebels against what you’ve become. Well, I’m not here to give you pain.”

“Then what exactly are you here for Cas? Because, personally, I’m sick of the cryptic bullshit.”

Castiel ignored the question in favor of flying himself and Dean closer to the abandoned office building. He could already tell he had guessed correctly.

“We’re here.”

Samandriel was the first to notice the two figures outside their base of operations. The first had him a moment away from raising an alarm until he noticed who was standing by the demon’s side. He flitted outside without another thought, wondering if his eyes deceived him.

“Castiel?” he asked, eyes shining at the sight of his brother.

“Samandriel,” Castiel greeted.

“Was God high when he named you all?” asked Dean, rolling his eyes. “Nice vessel by the way. He’s cute.”

Samandriel’s face scrunched in confusion as he tried to determine exactly what the demon may have meant by that, but judged the comment to be harmless.

“Thank you?” he asked, before shrugging. “We’ve been looking for you, actually Castiel.”

“Really? I was looking for you. I was curious about what has been happening in Heaven.”

“Maybe we should go inside,” Samandriel said. “It’s better warded.”

“Will Dean be able to?”

“We’ve only warded against being seen. Anyone is able to enter,” Samandriel answered. “So it’s true then,” he added as they walked inside. “You’ve been traveling with a knight of hell.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Castiel said. Dean snorted and crossed his arms, watching with interest as several angels in the room stood and drew their swords at the sight of him. Samandriel gave them each a look, which had them stowing their weapons, but their eyes still trailed after the demon cautiously.

“Hey, Cas, I think they like me,” Dean said sarcastically. One of the angels seemed to snap at the statement, walking forward until they stood inches from the demon, glaring at him, but speaking to Samandriel.

“How could you let this thing in here?”

“Rebecca, he was here with our brother,” Samandriel said gently. “I know your pain-”

“My pain?” she shouted, power bristling in the air around her. “You felt what he did to Remiel and Hael. You heard them screaming for death, for relief. I didn’t know an angel could suffer like that before that day.”

“Rebecca,” came another sharp female voice. “Regardless of personal feelings, if Samandriel feels that he needs to be here, then that is what will happen.”

“Hannah, please,” Samandriel said softly, sudden regret in his features. “I don’t want to tell all of you what to do. Or how to feel. But our brother is here, and this demon, despite his methods, has been a friend to him when many of us were not. You do not need to forgive, but take into account the crimes we have committed against Castiel before acting against someone who has protected him.”

Castiel watched in awe as the angels seemed to defuse themselves, directing incredible respect towards Samandriel. In heaven there had been obedience, but what he saw now surpassed that. It wasn’t hierarchy that had the angels bending to his will. It was genuine trust and respect, and gave Castiel hope that he hadn’t had in a long time.

“Can I speak with you alone?” Samandriel asked him. He nodded, before glancing back at Dean. Dean had taken a liking to Samandriel and trusted that angel at least not to move against Cas, though he kept his eyes wandering around the rest of the assorted angels, just in case. “Hannah will stay with Dean.”

Hannah appeared at the demon’s side, startling him.

“Would it kill you all to walk. Jesus.”

“Please do not blaspheme,” Hannah said coolly. She smiled slightly at Cas, though. “It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise,” Cas said with an artless wave. It was strange, how stiff they all seemed. It made an odd sort of sense though. Castiel only ever seemed to see angels in battle, and there they were sure and swift, their motions smooth. It was stillness that did not become them in a vessel’s body. They were all so used to stillness, that they didn’t remember that humans breathed, fidgeted, moved. Castiel already felt so separate from them, not human, but still not quite an angel anymore. More than what he had gained in his years on Earth, he had lost the purpose and faith that defined his brothers.

Samandriel led him into a kind of cubicle, private enough for their discussion. There were sigils that prevented eavesdropping, and for this reason Castiel let himself fully relax, dropping any adaptations he had made in case any were to challenge him. Samandriel watched him with interest.

“How did you find us?”

“Balthazar.”

“Of course,” Samandriel said, smiling slightly. “Was he glad to see you?”

“Yes. I was happy to know he was alive. He mentioned that you were…” Castiel trailed off, uncertain as to the specifics of what exactly had happened to Samandriel. Balthazar had said commands had been carved into his grace, but Castiel couldn’t understand how that could be a possibility.

Samandriel considered how to begin and decided the most direct method was probably the best.

“Are there memories that evade you?”

“Sometimes,” Castiel admitted.

“It’s odd, how easily we dismiss something that should disturb us,” Samandriel said. “We’re angels, the top of the supernatural world. Beyond the control of any creature that influences thoughts or feelings. We’re all such fools.”

“But how can torture-?”

“It wasn’t just torture,” Samandriel said, his voice raw and upset. Castiel stood up from his seat and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder as a message of solidarity. Samandriel continued. “She restrained me inside my vessel and invaded my grace. She took thoughts she didn’t like and replaced them with those she did. She added motivations, without a care to my own will or sanity. And when Balthazar reduced my vessel to salt, the pain I endured broke my memories free,” he paused again, taking a deep shuddering breath. “Every time I think of it, it’s like I’m back in that chair.”

“I’m so sorry,” Castiel said, shocked. Angels could be cruel, but they weren’t supposed to be like this. Something was wrong in heaven. Something had been wrong in heaven for a long time.

“You’ve been through it too,” Samandriel added at last, after having calmed his distress somewhat. “Don’t chase the memories, you do not want them, but many of the angels have visited Naomi at some point or another. The ones too necessary to kill, but too disobedient to be left to their own devices.”

“And that’s why you left?” Castiel asked, not wanting to dwell on the new information. He had enough dark thoughts to distract him without adding more. He could be thankful for his forgetfulness. Samandriel nodded in answer to his question, peace returning to his features.

“I found a new purpose,” he said. “I questioned everything. I didn’t know what motivations were my own, which were the ones had been given to feel. I challenged each of my beliefs, and I did it as I walked the earth. I fell in love with it’s beauty, Castiel. You would not believe, the kindness I was shown by strangers. People just as lost as I was, doing their best to reassure me of my worth. There was evil too, terrible evil, the kind we’ve spent so long decrying in heaven, but there was beauty. So I made a decision for myself. God long ago commanded we bow to humanity, but in all honesty I’m not doing this for God. I’m doing this for them. Humans are the prey of so many, and I think they deserve a few protectors. I’ve felt what it’s like to be helpless, and I don’t wish that on anybody. So I decided to do what I could to help.”

“I’m glad you feel so strongly,” Castiel said sadly. He had hunted to protect humanity certainly, but it wasn’t with the vision Samandriel had. It was out of desperation, a way to make amends for all the wrongs he had done. He longed for the purity of purpose of his brother, but knew his own motivations and feelings were too twisted and confused to ever be entirely selfless. “What about the vessels? I admire you, Samandriel, but these people need their lives. I don’t want you to regret taking from those you’re trying to protect.”

“It’s alright. We’re working with an organization. The Men of Letters. Many of them are vessels, oddly enough, so we rotate vessels monthly for some of our angels. Other vessels are members of the church who are nearing death and willing to grant their lives in our service. I have been careful, after losing my first vessel, that we try at least, to make sure that the consent we obtain is informed and freely given. We try to do right by them.”

Castiel started laughing and found he couldn’t stop. It was half way hysterical and Samandriel gave him a concerned look that eventually sobered him.

“I’m sorry. It’s just, you’re so much better than I ever was,” Castiel said, laughing again. “You’re a good leader, Samandriel. You’re what they need.”

“No, don’t think that. It’s your example I’m following. Standing up for what I believe in, following my heart. Who do you think I looked to, when I needed to restore my faith?”

“Then you managed to be decent despite a piss poor example.”

“Maybe you’ve made incorrect decisions, maybe not. But you acted in the interest of both heaven and Earth. And Heaven was broken. It still is broken. Gabriel, Michael, and Raphael are trying to keep us together without addressing the deeper problems, and it isn’t working. I think maybe we all would be a little better off if instead of condemning you, when you expressed doubts, we had listened and considered,” Samandriel paused for a moment, trying to convey his sincerity so that Castiel would not doubt his next offer. “You know, if you wanted, there is a place for you here.”

Cas shook his head. He was happy to see that any of the angels were trying to change, to be better, but he couldn’t be a part of it. Not anymore.

“I can’t.”

“I thought as much,” Samandriel said sadly, but with understanding Castiel hadn’t expected. “No matter where it is, though, I hope you find your peace.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said, and meant it. He left without saying goodbye, hoping in all honesty that it wasn’t a final goodbye. Though he doubted he would ever truly be a part of heaven again, he still had hope that someday he could see the angels reunited. This separation into factions and sides was necessary. They needed to understand what was wrong before they could fix it, otherwise harmony came at the price of silencing any that challenged the status quo. It was likely better this way as well. Samandriel was a victim, a living martyr. Castiel was divisive, his actions neither entirely in the wrong or the right. To stand at his brother’s side would be asking for trouble their movement didn’t need.

When he walked back into the office he was surprised to see Dean gone. Hannah quickly informed him that Dean had declared the angels boring and decided to get a drink. Castiel thanked her before searching the demon out.

Dean, at that moment, was at a bar and smirking at a siren who didn’t suspect that his latest target was a demon. It had been a long while since he had decently tortured something, and he was looking forward to it. He felt a pulse of anger run through him when the siren was replaced with Castiel, the angel using his Jedi angel tricks to smooth over the moments he had spent stabbing the siren and removing his body so that the other patrons at the bar didn’t even notice that a different man was now in the seat next to Dean’s.

“You just killed my date.”

“Did I?” Castiel muttered, holding up two fingers to indicate that they needed new drinks. “My mistake.”

“I was going to have fun with him.”

“I didn’t know sirens were your type.”

“Not that kind of fun, asshole,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “Not that you would care if I did. Surprised you’re not still hanging out with your angel buddies. I mean, you do seem to like to get kicked when you’re down, it makes sense that you’d like them better than us.”

“I’m not staying with them,” Castiel said back, picking up on what Dean wasn’t saying.

“Why?” Dean asked, taking a vicious sip of his drink before wrinkling his nose at the taste. “They’re family. They want you back. I heard them all whispering about it. I mean, you’ll be breaking Claire’s heart, and I don’t know how long it will take before Gabriel splits her and Jesse up without you helping us keep him off our backs but-”

“You don’t need to guilt me into staying,” Castiel interrupted. “Perhaps I may not always like my place, but at the very least I know it.”

Dean waited a moment before groaning in exasperation. “You wanna elaborate?”

Cas pressed his palm to Dean’s forehead, surprised when the demon leaned into the touch. When he let go, every bruise and cut that had marred the body Dean was wearing was gone.

“With my family,” Castiel said quietly, thinking of the months he had spent traveling with Claire, Sam, and now Jesse. With Dean. “I told you I wasn’t here to give you pain. And God knows you’ve drilled it into me by now that there’s no saving you. No fixing you. But I can forgive you, and I guess that will just have to be enough.”

Dean stared Castiel, bewildered. Cas smiled sadly, wondering if he could understand, could see that this was the best that the angel had to offer, the only thing that could help. At last Dean’s expression cleared into its usual cocky smile.

“Alrighty then, “ Dean said. “Got any more big speeches or are you tired out now?”

“I do have a few questions.”

“Like?” Dean asked, eyes widening in challenge.

“Why was the siren who was targeting you dressed as a cop?”

“That sounds an awful lot like judgment, Castiel,” Dean snarked back after laughing in surprise. “I guess you’ll just have to ‘forgive’ me for appreciating a man in uniform.”

Castiel could only keep a a straight face for a moment before he broke, smiling down at his drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter has the Men of Letters and Sam stuff, so stay tuned.


	16. The Soap Opera Twist You All Saw Coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had kind of a hard time writing this chapter, but I think it turned out well. Hope you like it.

John Winchester woke up at seven a.m. sharp, took a seven minute long shower, and got dressed for work in his Men of Letters approved suit. That was how he started his day, every day, and today was no different.

He was neat, with the care for appearance of a military man and the same regard for hierarchy and duty. He was well read, an expert on every subject of lore you could ever need to know about, and in every way an exemplary member of his organization.

John Winchester’s best friend was Bobby Singer, his (ex-)wife’s name was Katie and his son was Dean Winchester, all of whom he hadn’t spoken to in over ten years. Dean, because he had died, Bobby, because Dean had died, and Katie, because he knew he couldn’t lie to her for any length of time, and she could never ever find out what had happened to her son.

After finishing dressing for the day, John made his way to the kitchen of the bunker that served as the Men of Letters’ headquarters, unsurprised to see Rufus carefully making crepes in a frying pan. The man rarely ate breakfast, but when he did he put more effort into it than John saw any reason for.

“Is that for everyone?” John asked, partially just to annoy Rufus. The man glared at him and shook his head. John smoothly walked past him, taking one of the microwaveable sandwiches that he’d asked Garth to pick up from the industrial freezer and then warming it up. While he was doing so, Eileen wandered in and sat at the table. She looked surprised when Rufus set a crepe down in front of her, but thanked him before reaching for the jam he’d already put on the table. John decided not to comment on what he knew to be both a show of favoritism and a passive insult to John.

“Have you heard from Bobby lately?” John asked casually, between bites of his sandwich.

“Yeah.”

John waited but Rufus didn’t elaborate.

“You going to tell me what he said?”

“You know John, one of these days you could swallow your pride and call the bastard yourself.”

“He doesn’t want to hear from me.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Rufus asked back. He backed down a moment later when he saw John’s stance change, his sandwich crushed in the grip of his hand. “Oh, calm down, man. I’m not talking about your personal shit. I’m talking about you two asshats using me as some kind of conduit into each other’s lives. Call him yourself or quit asking, that’s all I have to say.”

John glared for a moment longer before exiting the kitchen. Eileen looked at Rufus with a bemused smile.

“You two do realize just because I can’t hear you doesn’t mean I can’t read your lips.”

“Yeah, real good for you, girl,” Rufus said harshly, but not without a slight hint of affection. “Now eat your goddamn crepes.”

“Did someone say crepes?” Garth asked, stumbling in with his shirt buttons done up wrong and tie knotted haphazardly, something Rufus knew would drive John crazy. He had a hapless grin on, but Rufus was no softie and the rest of the crepes were his.

“Make your own, if you want some so bad,” he said. Garth got to work with a smile and Rufus winced when he started making up the batter with the ratio completely wrong, but soon decided that Garth was going to do what he was going to do and he might as well enjoy his breakfast instead of worrying about the kid. Dorothy was the last in as usual, hair pulled into a tight bun and button up and jacket perfectly adhering to dress code.

“What’s the occasion?” she asked, sitting herself next to Eileen. She preferred not to eat breakfast, though she also felt somewhat obligated to attend the meal since more times than not the day’s plans were made there.

“The occasion is I fucking felt like making crepes and Eileen is a damn thief.”

Eileen didn’t deny the claim and instead took a rather large bite out of there crepe smiling pointedly in Rufus’ direction, happy to play along for the incredulous look it earned her from Dorothy. Although Eileen respected her a great deal, Dorothy seemed to have an uppity sense of self importance that got under Eileen’s skin. It didn’t help that most tasks and jobs went to her now that so many of the Men of Letters were working with Samandriel and the other angels as vessels in order to fight demons. Only what essentially amounted to a skeleton crew had been left behind to manage headquarters, with John Winchester put in charge of keeping everything in order.

“So, what are we doing today?” Dorothy asked, apparently over her surprise at Eileen’s perceived boldness.

“You all are going through inventory and making sure our feathered friends haven’t stolen any of our shit,” Rufus answered. Eileen and Dorothy both made noises of complaint, though Garth got excited enough that he promptly missed catching the too thick lopsided crepe he had been flipping in the air. By some miracle it landed straight on his plate.

“I love doing inventory,” he said. “The history of this place is fascinating.

“You don’t have any real work for us to do?” Dorothy asked, talking over Garth. “Demons to hunt? Witches to dismember? If I’d have known this side was so boring I would have stayed in Oz.”

“Actually,” John said, walking back into the room looking down at his laptop. “I might have something for you to do, Dorothy. Stretch your legs a bit.”

Dorothy looked happy to hear the news, but Rufus seemed less than pleased.

“Why don’t you send Eileen this time?” he asked casually, finishing the last of his crepes before setting his plates in the sink.

“Because I’m sending Dorothy.”

“You sent her out the last couple of times. At least give Eileen and Garth a shot at doing some real field work.”

“I’m in charge. We do things my way,” John said back. Rufus lifted up his hands in mock surrender and muttered insults under his breath. Dorothy looked a little guilty, eyes flickering between Eileen, Garth, and John, but the call of adventure was too much to pass off, so she left a few moments later. John didn’t explain himself, but he didn’t need to. Dorothy was what passed for a good Woman of Letters. Eileen knew she and Garth just didn’t meet up to what he thought they should be. Garth was too clumsy, too whimsical, and Eileen suspected if John had his way she wouldn’t be involved in combat situations at all. It frustrated her, especially since she had done fine in all of her training and had been initiated despite several people who questioned whether or not she should be. Still, there was a hierarchy to consider, so Eileen didn’t say anything, just set her dishes into the sink and followed Garth to begin inventory.

Garth was obviously not entirely his happy go lucky self since being snubbed at breakfast that morning by John, but he covered it well, signing to Eileen different stories about his favorite among their cursed objects and drawing out several smiles despite her foul mood. It was in the middle of a particularly passionate expression of one of his stories that Garth knocked over a bottle with shining pieces inside with what resembled a greenish small body, contorted and pressing against the edges of the bottle. Eileen had her hand on the angel sword she had been gifted the moment the container cracked and ran the creature through without hesitation when it immediately leaped for and clung onto Garth’s shocked face.

“What was that?” Eileen asked, having never seen this particular creature before. It melted into a scaly sludge at the tip of her sword, as Eileen watched, her face scrunching in disgust.

“Vodnici,” Garth mouthed, looking a little stunned. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Eileen said. “Really. I would rather not give John Winchester more reasons to keep us from doing our jobs.”

Just as she finished saying that, a sudden pulse seemed to run through the creature that had Eileen back on guard. The swirling lights which had been concealed within a cup suddenly burst forth, most going upwards, but a single one running straight through Eileen’s chest in its bid to escape. Eileen worried for a moment that something had happened to her, but after a few more seconds without an attack from the creature, she felt herself relax.

“Do you know what those were?” she asked Garth. He nodded.

“Souls. Vodnici usually lure their victims near bodies of water before drowning them and stealing their souls to keep in a cup.”

“Interesting,” Eileen said, looking at the puddles of sludge on the floor. After releasing the souls, any kind of rigidity it had had was now gone. “Let’s clean this up before anyone sees.”

******************

Sam felt like a truck had just slammed into his gut. Suddenly the entire world lit up, too brightly to focus on, and he yelped at the pain. It was as though he were feeling pain for the first time, the intensity pushing him into unconsciousness as Jesse and Claire watched in horror.

“Sam?” Claire said, poking him in the side. “Jesse, do you know what’s going on?”

Jesse stared at Sam in shock, nodding wordlessly. Claire hit him in the arm and he snapped out of it, surprised at the improbability of what had just occurred.

“That was his soul,” Jesse said.

“What?” Claire asked. “I thought he was born without one. Where the hell did it come from?”

“No idea,” Jesse said.

“Super helpful,” Claire said sarcastically. Jesse shrugged. “Help me get his ass back to the motel.”

“Okay,” Jesse said lifting his legs. Claire raised an eyebrow. “Cas said I can’t take the bracelets off.”

“Cas isn’t here right now.”

“Do I look like I want to be tortured by his boyfriend?” Jesse pointed out. Claire looked like she wanted to argue, but ended up conceding the point. She hooked her arms under Sam’s shoulders to help Jesse and the two teenagers struggled to carry Sam without attracting attention. They were mostly unsuccessful, but Claire tearfully explaining that her brother was drunk and they just wanted to get him home usually worked for driving away anyone curious enough to stop them. It was a full twenty minutes before they finally made it back to the motel and deposited Sam on one of the beds.

“Do you think we should call Cas?” Jesse asked after a second of them both just staring at Sam lying unconscious.

“Probably,” Claire said, sitting down hard on the other bed. “He’s going to freak, isn’t he?”

“Probably.”

“Well, this is going to be fun,” Claire muttered, closing her eyes so she could pray. “Hey Cas? We’ve got a problem. Can you meet us at the motel-“

Claire was interrupted by the flapping noise that indicated Cas was there, looking a little worried. When he caught sight of Sam slumped on the bed, his expression grew more confused.

“What happened?”

Jesse and Claire exchanged glances, silently deciding which one of them should say. Claire won with a pointed look. Jesse met Cas’ eyes nervously before speaking in a rush.

“His soul came back.”

“What?” Cas asked, walking towards Sam and carefully placing his hand against his chest before sinking it inside. Sam jerked, shouting in his sleep at the pain. Castiel quickly removed his hand, shocked. “How could that have happened?”

“How could what have happened?” asked Dean, appearing behind Claire, who jumped before turning around to hit the demon. “Watch it kid. I hit back harder than that.”

“Like you would,” Claire said. Dean smacked the back of her head and then started whistling, looking the other direction when Claire spun around. “Cas, did you see what he did?”

“Stop fighting,” Cas mumbled half heartedly, still staring at Sam as though he were trying to figure out exactly how he had ended up with a soul stuffed back inside his body.

“She started it,” Dean said, before taking the television remote and nudging Cas out of the way so he could poke the still unconscious Sam with it. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He just regained his soul,” Castiel explained at last. Dean poked the remote into Sam’s side again. “I don’t think that’s going to work.”

“Worth a shot,” Dean said, throwing the remote at Jesse who barely caught it. “Do you think he’s going to wake up?”

“I don’t know,” Cas replied honestly, sounding a little worried. “He’s lived his entire life without a soul. Without any basis for morality. To have that suddenly wired into your mental framework… a human mind can only take so much before it breaks.”

Just as Cas finished saying this, Sam sat straight up breathing hard. He ran past everyone in the room, stopping at the waste paper basket where he promptly was sick. Everyone in the room just stared as he rinsed out his mouth before turning back to them, waiting for him to say something. He looked between them all, a kind of innocent bewilderment on his face.

“Who are all of you?”

*******************

John looked over the reports, not knowing exactly what to feel. They were good. He had argued against working with the angels, had been against it from the start… but it was working. Death rates had gone down among operatives, and they were taking out more demons than ever. Even better, the angels had started to specialize in demon capture and mass exorcisms. The amount of people they were able to save had started to steadily increase, but it still didn’t feel right to him. It was as though the other Men of Letters simply didn’t understand the extent of the damage angels could do to humans if they let their guard down. He couldn’t believe how easily the others had forgiven these creatures, these monsters after they had attempted to wipe out the Earth on a whim. Larry Ganem, the most senior of their elders had assured him that he had met with these angels, that they were different. John was more than willing to follow orders most of the time, but in this case trusting the angels left him feeling as though something were crawling below his skin.

Rufus walked into the library without a word and sat down across from John, unauthorized alcohol in full view, as though he were daring John to say anything about it.

“Samandriel’s people managed to recover about a hundred possessed civilians last month,” John said without preamble, ignoring Rufus’ blatant rule breaking. If Rufus didn’t want to admit that John had legitimate reasons for keeping Eileen out of the field, than that was his prerogative. At least drinking usually put him a bit of a better mood, and besides John wanted to know what he’d heard from Bobby.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Rufus said, noting John’s frustrated tone.

“Yeah. But since when do things like this just help us and expect nothing in return?” John muttered, letting the damned tablet that the Men of Letters had upgraded to fall with a clack to the table. Still not broken. What had been wrong with pen and paper? he briefly wondered.

“Since now,” Rufus said with a shrug. “Why look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“To check for fangs.”

“Still don’t know who’s more paranoid, you or Bobby,” Rufus muttered, taking another drink. “You really not going to call him?”

“Are you really not going to tell me what he said?”

“The closest thing he’s had to a kid these last ten years ran off with some girl. What do you think he talked about?” Rufus asked, clearly already fed up with the topic. “Your boy may have come up.”

“That thing is not my son.”

Rufus swallowed a portion of his drink before continuing.

“Well, apparently ‘that thing’ has been calling in to let Bobby know how Jesse’s doing,” he said, knowing that John, no matter what he said would want to know what had been said. “Funny, how easy Bobby trusts him.”

“Not really,” John said, staring down at his hands, noting that they were clenched. He worked to relax them. “He always liked Dean. And he’s spent a decade taking care of an Antichrist and spending time with an archangel. His view of what is and isn’t human isn’t as clear as it used to be.”

“True,” Rufus admitted, but John could tell he was going to say more. “And Bobby is a lot of things. A prideful, stubborn son of a bitch among them. But he ain’t a fool, and he ain’t trusting.”

“What are you trying to say?” John asked, tone a shade away from dangerous. The very last thing he wanted to talk about was Dean. In fact he was certain he would be just fine if the name was never mentioned in his presence again.

“I’m just making conversation, John,” Rufus said, leaning back in his chair and surveying his colleague. John stood up and left without another word. Rufus watched him leave, then picked up the tablet John had abandoned and began looking through the work he needed to do for the day.

****************

“Sam?” Dean asked, waving a hand in front of his face. “Sammy the soulless psycho? You still in there?”

Sam stared at him for a moment before looking at everyone else in the room.

“Is he crazy?” he asked, backing away from Dean slightly. Dean flicked his eyes black and Sam jumped about a foot in the air before trying to sprint for the door. Castiel appeared in front of him to stop him, hands on his shoulders to stop him from running.

“Very helpful, Dean,” Cas said as he did his best to stop Sam’s wild attempts to hit him. “Sam, please calm yourself.”

“Demons. You’re both demons,” Sam said desperately, still trying to escape. Cas shook his head letting a blue glow light up his eyes. When Sam saw that he stopped struggling, though if anything he looked more freaked out. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“Sam, I need you to answer a few questions for me,” Castiel said carefully. “How much do you remember?”

Sam stared at him blankly and then shook his head, looking more perturbed.

“Nothing?” Castiel asked in surprise.

Sam looked up helplessly.

“I wouldn’t even know my name if you hadn’t just said it,” he said quietly. “What happened to me?”

“Just a few more questions,” Castiel promised, evading Sam’s inquiry. “You knew Dean was a demon, so you must have some access to your memory. Perhaps it’s just personal details that have been swept away. What do you know about demons?”

“Black eyes. Salt, Devil’s traps, exorcisms. Hell,” Sam said. Castiel nodded, appearing to think.

“What’s your last name?” Cas asked. Sam shook his head. “I think perhaps the memories of his time as a soulless being were too traumatic for him. This appears to be some form of dissociative amnesia.”

“What?”

“Can I take a look inside your head?” Cas asked carefully. Sam shook his head quickly, but under Castiel’s careful stare he finally relented. With two fingers to Sam’s forehead and eyes closed, Castiel filtered through his thoughts and the architecture of his mind, surprised to see a only a very small part of his consciousness was currently being used, the rest of it dormant. However, at Castiel’s intrusion, the dormant side began to wake, and the divide of Sam’s consciousness switched places in an instant.

“Get out of my head, Cas,” said Sam, brushing off the hand on his shoulder. “So, how was the new guy?”

“Yeah, I’m going to need someone to explain to me what the fuck is going on here,” Claire said, looking at Jesse for some kind of elucidation. He seemed to know about as much as she did.

“You remember now?” Cas asked Sam. He nodded. “There was a split in your mind.”

“Yeah, I know. I could hear him talking,” Sam said, sounding like his old self. “He was so afraid. It was a new experience, feeling my heart beat faster in fear, watching as thoughts in my head grew panicked. Is that what it’s like for all of you?”

“Oh,” Cas said, seeming to understand. “You’re the Sam we knew, and when the soul entered your body, it created a separate personality entirely incompatible with your own. He had access to your memories, but only practical knowledge, nothing personal,” Cas paused again, thinking through the situation. “You can hear him. Can he hear you?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve been in my head all my life. This asshole just got here. He’s got about the control over me that a newborn would,” Sam answered with a snort. “Still, this could get interesting. I think I might hand the reins back over for a while. See exactly what everyone is talking about with all of these emotions first hand.”

And then without another word, Sam’s expression changed, going from cold and calculating to helpless and lost within seconds.

“What was that?” he asked, after a moment’s hesitation. “You all just jumped places. I didn’t hear wings. How did that happen?”

“Nose goes on who has to break everything to him,” Dean said a second later. Claire and Jesse immediately put their hands to their noses while Castiel rolled his eyes at their childish behavior and sat down in a chair so he could begin to explain the situation to, as Dean soon dubbed him, Amnesia Sam.

****************

Meg was covered in other demons’ blood and fucking exhausted as she plunged the blade she’d managed to sweet talk from an angel into another of Crowley’s men. At last she was alone with a huge pile of corpses. Wonderful.

Crowley was smart, she’d give him that. When he’d figured out that some of the angels were going after demons, he’d gone deep undercover and taken his armies with him. Meg had seen opportunity, alternate methods to free Lucifer from his cage and had attempted to strike. she realized now she should have stopped to think, to realize exactly what Crowley’s bid was. The fucker may be a two faced coward, but he knew which way was up and exactly how he could stay there. As soon as Meg had moved in, she’d found her forces overwhelmed, the demons that followed her decimated in the course of only a few weeks. Crowley had tipped off the angels, she just knew it, and the feathery idiots hadn’t even stopped to consider the politics of taking the tip offs, had just thought that as long as they were killing demons they were helping.

Meg removed herself from Crowley’s latest trap, breaking the warding that had kept her from dematerializing as soon as she’d realized that the new recruits were assassins. Normally she wouldn’t be handling the recruiting process, but what could she say? She had enough awareness to know she was getting desperate. It wasn’t so much the amount of demons that were dying as the amount who were jumping ship. Only the firmest believers were staying by her side, and even they were burying themselves until the angels’ assaults became less targeted. It had been ages since Meg had last spoken with any of her most trusted advisors in the war campaign, and she had to admit at this point it was more chaos than strategy that controlled what the demons on her side did.

Meg found an abandoned building, far from prying eyes and spent a few hours covering the place in protective sigils before finally allowing herself to collapse and recuperate from her injuries. A couple of those demons had gotten in a good hit or two. Not that they stood a chance against her.

“Well, at least they weren’t recruits because they would have been fucking useless,” Meg said to herself, letting the sarcastic tone hang in the air. “You think that’s all it takes to take me out Crowley?” she asked a little louder, speaking to no one. She had no one to go to. “I was saying this for a rainy day,” Meg said pulling out a coin whose partner she had left in the ridiculous black car her least favorite vigilantes insisted on driving around in. “You guys are the wildcards, so for once, be fucking useful.”

**************

“I’m not sitting with him,” Claire said as she attempted to crawl into shotgun. Jesse shot her a betrayed look, before climbing in the back. He looked up at Castiel, silently asking him to be a barrier between him and Amnesia Sam. Castiel guiltily looked away and said he was going to do a few things and that he would meet them at their next motel. Jesse narrowed his eyes at the angel, letting him know he knew that Cas was just trying to avoid Sam like the rest of them were.

It wasn’t as though there was anything really wrong with him. He acted and reacted like a regular person. And that was the problem. They’d gotten so used to Sam being soulless that the sudden shift in personality was incredibly jarring. That morning, Sam had seen Claire get up and had asked her if she was feeling all right and mentioned the bags under her eyes. Claire’s insomnia had never really been cured, despite Cas’ attempts to make sure she was getting enough sleep, and although she knew Sam kept record of it, he never actually asked her questions out of concern for her. It was creepy. Claire had taken to ignoring him.

“Am I doing something to make all of you uncomfortable?” Sam asked at last.

“Yep,” Dean said. “Try to act more like a psychopath. We’ll all feel a lot better.”

Luckily at that moment, Soulless Sam decided to surface, obviously tired of letting the new consciousness take the lead. Everyone in the car took a breath of relief when they saw Sam’s usual calculating look back on his face.

“I don’t think he understands your reactions,” Sam said smoothly. He tried stretching out his legs before crossing his arms in annoyance. “Pull over. I should have the seat in front.”

“Like we’re going to do that after you subjected us to your goody two shoes twin. He tried to hug Cas today. Actually tried to hug him, just because Cas was talking about one of the angels trying to kill him.”

“You hug each other occasionally,” Sam pointed out, clearly not understanding why this would be so unsettling.

“Yeah, but you don’t,” Dean answered. “I’m just saying, the sooner we get your soul out of you again the better.”

“But I’m still experimenting,” Sam said, taking out his notebook and starting to record his findings after observing how the personality his soul had created within him behaved in various situations. “It really is strange to see the thought process he has behind decisions. He takes your feelings into account, ignores obvious solutions to problems because of moral considerations. And sleeping! I dreamed. Why didn’t anyone ever tell me how little sense dreams make? It’s all kind of fascinating.”

“No one but you is having any fun with this,” Dean said through gritted teeth. Claire decided she was sick of the conversation, and turned on the radio, earning her a glare from Dean. The radio somehow magically ended up on a classic rock station and then turned up loud enough it was impossible to talk. Claire spent the interminable car ride playing with a coin she found in the glove compartment while looking through it for one of Cas’ books, which unfortunately he must have returned to whoever he’d stolen them from most recently. She pocketed it after she got bored of playing with it.

When they got to their next motel, Cas had already gotten a room for them. Claire noted that he’d made sure to include a pull out couch along with two beds and couldn’t help rolling her eyes at the pointed statement he was making about her and Jesse, all without saying a word. They had always gotten a room with two beds in order to avoid questions before Jesse had even joined them, since she was clearly so much younger than Sam, so when they had continued she hadn’t been surprised. Now that Sam would need to sleep, though, Cas was obviously subtly telling her his stance when it came to her relationship with Jesse. She raised an eyebrow at him, but he didn’t say anything, just walked over to Dean who began loudly complaining and asking when they could get rid of Sam’s soul again.

Castiel decided to inform the group of what he had spent the hours waiting for them doing.

“I tried to track down where his soul came from using a location spell,” Castiel said, pulling out a burned map. I managed to triangulate the location to Kansas.”

“Kansas?”

“Probably.”

“So we have to search all of Kansas, great,” Dean muttered.

“Relax guys,” Sam said next. “We’ll just figure out some other way to get rid of it after I’m done making observations.”

“That won’t be as simple as you’re thinking,” Castiel said. “Most methods of removing a soul are incredibly painful, if not fatal. Creatures that have the ability would not do so without killing you first. I could try, but souls are like nuclear reactors and I just don’t have the precision needed to make the operation safe. And more than that, I don’t feel ethically sound effectively killing… the other Sam.”

“Wait, you mean I might be stuck like this?” Sam asked, starting to sound concerned.

“Oh god, kill me now,” Dean said.

“That can be arranged,” came a voice from the doorway of the room. Jesse and Claire each instantly took a step towards each other, as though to protect the other. Cas took a step forward, but Meg’s laugh and general air of physical weakness stopped him as he realized she was in no shape to threaten any of them. “Relax, blue eyes, I wasn’t being serious.”

“Who fucked you up?” asked Dean, also noticing how out of it Meg looked.

“The self proclaimed king of hell tried,” Meg said, leaning heavily against the door. “Couldn’t hack it.”

“It looks as though he got close,” Cas said, taking a few steps closer.

“Ah, Clarence, don’t try to kill me just yet,” Meg said, a little too quickly for how unconcerned she was trying to sound. “You see, I think we can be useful to each other. Work on the same side for once. Hear me out.”

“How about we don’t and say we did,” Claire said, glaring at the demon.

“Still upset about a little bit of torture?” Meg asked with a smirk. “You lot don’t seem to care much about doing the same exact thing to people you can get information from.”

“Monsters,” Castiel corrected. “Not people.”

“If those are monsters, tell me, what does that make you, sweetheart?” Meg asked. Cas’ expression spoke of impending violence, so Meg rushed to get on with her proposal. “I don’t care what you lot tell yourselves so you can sleep at night. You don’t have to like me, I don’t have to like you. What’s happening here is that Crowley is kicking my ass in the civil war and you lot want to know how to get to a place in Kansas that can’t be found by location spells. I happen to know exactly where that is.”

“And what do you want in return?” Castiel asked, ignoring the dumbfounded expressions from everyone else in the room.

“Besides Crowley dead?” Meg laughed. “Let the bastards behind this in on what exactly is going on in Hell, because they have no clue. They’re fucking themselves over pretty thoroughly and they have no idea. Have you idiots even considered what it would actually mean if Crowley won?”

“Lucifer would stay locked in the cage?” Cas pointed out.

“Lucifer’s getting out,” Meg said, eyes flashing. “I’m just trying to expedite the process. But he will get out. How do you think we’ve been talking to him? I told you he wanted you on his side, I wasn’t bullshitting. There’s a crack in the Cage.”

“What?” Castiel said, clearly surprised by this new information. “There can’t be. It was made by God to be impenetrable. The amount of energy needed to even breach it, let alone leave a crack would have to be something on his level. That’s impossible.”

“You want to tell everyone here how you got out of hell, Deano?” Meg asked. The demon looked surprised, sudden realization at what she was saying. He didn’t say anything, though. “Drained a few dozen souls of energy and set off a little explosion in Hell. Rocked the place to its core and then snuck through the cracks that formed. Didn’t know how far your little stunt went, did you?”

“It’s not enough power,” Castiel insisted. “Even just to break out of Hell, a few dozen souls wouldn’t be enough power.”

“It was,” Dean said, implicitly admitting that Meg’s story was true. Castiel looked back at him and his eyes slid down his arm to where the mark was hidden beneath his sleeve. He knew that the mark imbued power, certainly, but at this level? The Cage, the most secure prison in the universe, cracked as a mere side effect of Dean’s escape from Hell?

“Figure it out later, chuckleheads,” Meg said, interrupting Castiel’s train of thought. “Look, you guys are the wild cards in all of this. Heaven, Hell, no one knows whose side you’re on. I think you like it like that. If you don’t help me now, Crowley wins.”

“And if we do help you, Lucifer may walk free.”

“What do you think is going to happen?” Meg asked, her frustration breaking through. “The Apocalypse? Crowley already shot most of that to Hell. He’s been systematically getting rid of anything Lucifer could do as a part of it. Lucifer’s plan is to bring Hell to Heaven. Raise up the fallen. I’d think you’d be able to sympathize, Castiel.”

“You really expect me to believe Lucifer will just ignore the Earth?” Castiel said, another few steps closer, sword in hand. Meg caught sight of it and began talking again.

“Maybe not. But Crowley definitely will. You think he isn’t going to make the Earth his fucking playground? He hates Hell, he’s not going to stay there, and if you don’t think he won’t let his cronies do whatever they want, you’re crazy. You might not like my end game, but at least you know what it is. Do any of you actually know what it is Crowley wants? Power? He’s got that. Prestige? Demons will never look up to him, and he damn well knows that. They’ll fear him, sure, but demons know how to fear whoever’s in charge. That’s not respect. Not like Lucifer has, and Crowley is pretty fucking aware of that fact. Whatever he’s after, I doubt it’s good, and if you don’t help me keep the factions in Hell balanced, you’re as good as giving up the game to ‘King’ Crowley. Besides, like I said, Lucifer is getting out soon, whether Crowley’s in charge or I am. His goal is heaven, but if he doesn’t have an army behind him you can bet he’ll take it out on the demons who abandoned him, and that means more destruction on this hunk of rock you all are so fond of. Now, is everybody on board?”

“What exactly is it you want, Meg, for the information you mentioned before?” Castiel asked. “You wouldn’t have come to us if you weren’t getting something out of it.”

“Two things. First, after you’re done with this, find Crowley and take a swing at him. Second, convince the Men of Letters and the angels that if they need to kill us, at least have the decency to go after both sides.”

“And that’s it?” Cas said skeptically.

“If I wasn’t desperate, would I have come to you?” Meg pointed out. Castiel stayed quiet for a moment thinking it over and was interrupted in his thoughts by Sam speaking up.

“We’ll do it. I’m not staying like this. One of me in my head is more than enough.”

Meg kept her eyes on Cas, knowing that his yes would carry the most weight. She didn’t have long to wait before Castiel nodded. Meg breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that this last measure she was taking against Crowley could perhaps turn the tide. The angel had done it before, and almost entirely by himself.

“Got a map of Kansas?”

****************

“I still can’t believe we’re trusting Meg,” Claire said from the back of the car, angrily trying to rub soothing circles into Jesse’s back. He had reassured her that he was okay several times, but had stopped when he came to the realization that the action might be a way Claire was coping with seeing Meg again. That comforting him was acting as her way to calm herself down. “This could be a trap.”

“I highly doubt it,” Cas said. “Demons jump ship easily, and she was weak. I don’t find it hard to believe that she would have been left alone to fend for herself.”

“Still,” Claire insisted. “Why are we helping her? She’s done nothing for us. Hell, she’s done less than nothing. She tortured Jesse. She trapped you and was going to have her way with you and make me watch! We should be killing her, not doing her a favor.”

“Claire,” Cas said gently, turning around from where he was sitting in the front seat so he could look her in the eye. “We aren’t doing her a favor. She was right that Crowley is dangerous when left unopposed. There need to be factions in hell. If there isn’t any infighting, they’re free to participate in other activities. I’ve heard a favorite is dismembering people.”

“Eating children is popular,” Dean commented. “At least that’s what I’ve heard.”

Claire was silent after that, though she still looked particularly fed up. Jesse spent the car ride trying to distract her by teaching her more words in French. Claire had been curious to learn the different languages that Jesse knew and the two had been spending spare time going over grammar for several of the Romance languages. Jesse had also known Latin, which had been very helpful for adjusting exorcisms to retain meaning while eliminating excess time spent chanting. Spending time trying to pronounce French correctly did manage to calm Claire down soon, and eventually the two teenagers were a little more relaxed even giggling in the back of the Impala, much to Sam’s annoyance.

“I preferred it when she was alone and moody,” Sam said out loud, after Jesse and Claire had started cracking up over Claire purposefully mispronouncing several words as badly as she could. Claire had an angry retort on her lips, but the next moment she knew she was no longer looking at him, but the ensouled version that had been present over the past few days. He waved to her and Jesse a little, seeming perturbed by the time jump.

“It’s not fair he can do that,” Claire said, instantly pissed off again. Jesse sighed and glared at Sam, who just looked confused.

“Can I ask a question?” Sam said at last.

“You just did,” Dean says from the front, knowing he sounds way too smug to have made such a cliche joke, and still not caring. He looked back and caught a look at Sam’s annoyed expression and for the first time he thought that Sam with a soul might not be so bad. “What’s on your mind, Doug Quaid?”

“Why are there two of me? Shouldn’t I just be me, but, you know, with a soul now?”

“I honestly don’t know. I think it may be a coping mechanism. Morality imposed on chaos rarely breeds sanity,” Castiel answered. This seemed to appease Sam, who stayed mostly quiet for the rest of the ride, perhaps considering these words. It was a different quiet than his counterpart, pensive and thoughtful in the stead of a machine churning through answers until it came across a solution it thought most likely.

They had already been warned that the place they were about to go was warded against anything and everything—excepting perhaps Jesse, though Castiel did not want to expose their position to Gabriel by having the boy break them in—so Castiel had come up with the brilliant strategy of knocking on the door and hoping someone answered. While he did so, Dean hung back a little behind Claire, Jesse and Sam, so the group would seem less threatening as a whole. After Castiel knocked, the group waited.

****************

“Did someone just knock on the door?” John asked, looking up from the map on the table in surprise.

“Maybe Dorothy forgot the key,” Rufus said, clearly unconcerned. John supposed he could be right and went to answer the front door. Eileen and Garth, who had spent that particular day scanning through omens in order to predict demon activity both gratefully raised their heads from their work to see what was happening.

John opened the door expecting to see Dorothy, or perhaps a new member that had forgotten his key, or even one of Samandriel’s angels. He hadn’t expected a hippy, two teenagers, a giant, and a rock star wannabe circled around the door like a traveling choir. The motley group was almost funny, and if it weren't for the slight buzz of power he could feel in the air, he might have laughed.

“What’s this?” he asked flatly, glad that he could hear that Rufus, Eileen, and Garth had already gone for their weapons and ingredients they would need for a spell. He didn’t like the way the rocker wannabe was looking at him, half shock and half rage, a kind of hatred taking over his face.

“My name is Castiel,” said the man in front, which halted the preparations from behind John from everyone except Eileen, who was at his side in a second, weapon at the ready. “We don’t mean to cause trouble, it’s only you have some container that was holding my friend’s soul, and he wants to give it back.”

“I do?” Sam asked, looking horrified at the thought. Castiel waited for soulless Sam to make a reappearance, but nothing happened, and Castiel began to wonder if the new personality was beginning to replace the old one or if their Sam was beginning to have less control over which personality was currently being expressed.

“Christo,” John said, jumping slightly when the man in the back’s eyes flashed black. “Right, you don’t want trouble, huh?”

John hadn’t paid attention, when he heard reports about what his son was doing. The less details he knew the better, and for that reason he wasn’t entirely sure what the name of the angel that was traveling with him was. However, as he looked over the group again, the little details of what he knew about his son began to slip into place, and it wasn’t long until he’d lost all color in his face.

“Hello, dad,” said the man in a leather jacket at the back of the group, his tone bitter and his face made up of hard lines. He was taller than John’s son had been, his features more delicate, and his body stronger. Dean had always been slightly chubby, and had lived for the food his mother made for him. The man in front of him looked nothing like that, but it was more than just the physical. No matter how rebellious Dean had become over the years, there had always been kind of innocence to him, but that was gone now. John had to admit, he had always wished Dean was a harder man, could take pain more readily. But seeing him now, he knew he would take it all back if he could see his little boy again.

“Dean. You’ve… changed,” John said, unable to look away from the sad sight in front of him. Eileen was looking between the two groups rapidly, trying to catch as much information as she could and a little unnerved that one of the men in the group of strangers was staring at her as though he were trying to figure something out. Even more disconcerting was the tug in the center of her back she felt as she looked back at him.

“Can we come in?” Castiel asked, ending both sets of exchanges. “I promise that we mean no harm. We’ve only come to talk.”

“Everyone of you, leave a few droplets of blood at the entrance,” John said quietly. “It will let you walk past the wards and rob you of all supernatural power while inside. The effects fade after you leave.”

Dean walked up to the spot John had indicated, grinned manically, and cut his wrist nearly to the bone before dripping blood over the sigil he had indicated. The angel—Castiel, John remembered—looked slightly distressed at the sight and healed the demon before relinquishing his own powers. The other three members of their group didn’t bother, and John knew since they passed through the wards they must be human, excepting the dark haired boy, who was likely Jesse, the creature Bobby had been looking after all these years. John knew when not to poke a sleeping beast and decided not to test the boy’s abilities by making him leave blood when he clearly didn’t want to do so.

“Rufus,” Dean said, his tone changing to one of genuine affection. “How’ve you been you old bastard?”

“I’ve been just fine,” the man said cautiously, not entirely sure where he stood with the demon. Dean had been a fine boy, that much he remembered, but they twisted people up in hell. He hadn’t been lying to John before, when he said he trusted Bobby’s judgment, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t careful when dealing with potential threats. “What brings you lot here?”

“Sam, here, was born without a soul,” Dean said, indicating the tallest of his companions. “And now he has one. We’re pretty sure it came from here. Do you guys do returns?”

Rufus could tell from the redness of Garth and Eileen’s faces that they had some idea what Dean was talking about and looked at them expectantly. Garth cracked first.

“I knocked over a glass with a Vodnici in it,” he admitted quickly, head hung low. “Eileen killed it with an angel blade, and then all of the souls escaped.”

“That’s strange,” John said, angry that they hadn’t told him, but deciding for the moment to focus on the puzzle put before him. “If this man was born without a soul, how could a Vodnici have it? Besides, I captured that thing myself. Must have been over twenty five years ago. No children or pregnant women were victims.”

“That you knew of,” Castiel said. “Sam’s mother is a hunter. Did a Mary Campbell help you with the case? It’s possible she may have been pregnant at the time and unaware of the fact.”

John’s face lost more of its color, looking more grey than the streaks that had begun to show in his hair. He swallowed heavily, eyes glancing off Dean before answering.

“Yes, Mary was involved in that case. And the Vodnici got the drop on her, but I captured it before it could do any harm. Even if she was pregnant, I would have been able to tell if it had taken a soul. What you’re saying… it’s impossible.”

Cas kept quiet a moment, not wanting to ask more questions, already able to tell from John’s demeanor that the answers would upset Dean. Unfortunately, the demon was as perceptive as ever, and was looking between Sam and his father in a kind of honest horror that Cas had never seen before. It was always in his interactions with those he’d known before Hell that Dean behaved most human. Now was no exception.

“How old are you Sam?” Dean asked quietly.

“I’m not sure.”

“Ask the other asshole in your head then,” Dean snapped. Sam looked as though he were trying to do just that, if only to spare himself Dean’s wrath, but was unable to.

“Twenty six,” Castiel answered for him, able to tell merely from looking at Sam, and seeing the molecular makeup of his body. “Approximately.”

“Twenty six,” Dean said with a light laugh that managed to be completely devoid of humor. “Well, if I hadn’t died I’d be thirty nine right now. And you and mom got divorced when I was fourteen. Funny, how the numbers add up.”

“It’s not what you think,” John said, not even able to understand why he was defending himself, to a demon no less. “We were over, your mother and I. It just wasn’t official yet. It had been so long since I’d been close to someone. A man has needs Dean.”

“Jesus Christ, I don’t want to fucking hear about that,” Dean said, voice rising in volume and anger as he went on. “You were an obsessed bastard when I was alive. Mom and I were never good enough for you. All you ever went on about was the family legacy, and duty. Where the fuck was your duty to us, huh? And the second mom called you out on it, you run off on a case and get your rocks off with someone else. A hunter, no less. I thought you were too good for hunters? I thought we were all just dirt, when compared the fucking Men of Letters. Mindless apes, isn’t that what you called it?”

While Dean had been talking he’d slowly cornered John, until he had two fists full of the man’s shirt, angrily pressing him against the corner of a wall as though he were about to punch the living daylights out of him, with Rufus, Eileen, and Garth too astounded by the series of revelations to think to help him. Perhaps Dean would have to, if it weren’t for a hand on his shoulder, a touch so gentle, he knew it had to be Cas.

“Let him go, Dean.”

Dean whirled around to stare at the angel, livid with his lack of understanding.

“But, he-”

“I know,” Cas said, sparing no menace in the look he gave Dean’s father. “But you’re going to kill him. And if you do, you’ll regret it. Leave now and wait for us by the car.”

Dean didn’t move a muscle.

“Dean, please,” Cas pleaded, afraid for what would happen if he couldn’t break through to Dean.

That seemed to unfreeze him. Without another look back, Dean stormed out of the Men of Letters headquarters, several pairs of eyes trailing him as walked out, slamming the door behind him. Claire and Jesse quickly followed, obviously anxious to be away from the awkward tension that had filled the room.

“Who are you to him?” John asked after the silence had gotten to be too much, protective even now that everything between he and his son had become so broken.

“You lost the right to know that the moment you excised him from your life,” Castiel answered coolly. “You told him he was nothing, if he didn’t lead the life you wanted for him. You made him feel worthless. You are the one who created the idea in his mind that his life could end and no one would care. So every cut, every scream, every horrid thing that Dean was put through in the Pit, I blame on you.”

“Where the hell do you get off telling me about my son? I loved Dean, I never would have asked him to do what he did. That is not on me, you fucking-”

“I’ve known so many men like you, John Winchester,” Castiel said, voice booming and frightening, despite the lack of any real power to go behind it, all of his grace suppressed by the spell he had submitted himself to in order to get through the door. “They make great heroes, and poor fathers. And every one of them died unsatisfied and alone. And honestly? If there is any justice in the world, you will do the same.”

And with that, Castiel left, ignoring the shouts from behind him, most of which consisted of cursing and angry retorts. Only Sam was left, then, and although he looked interested in what John was saying, his eyes kept straying back to Eileen, a thrill of familiarity that nothing else gave him running through his veins each time.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” he asked her at last. She shook her head, but he could see the confusion in her expression as well. He fought an impulse to reach out and touch her, knowing the gesture would be unwelcome. After staring at her for a moment, he felt something tugging at his consciousness and willingly gave up control, wanting to escape the uncertainty for a dreamless sleep as the original make and model Sam once again took center stage. This version of Sam left easily and with no goodbyes, making his way to the door and disappearing behind it, Eileen still feeling the lessening tug in her back before it all but disappeared. John was silent now, as was Garth and Rufus. No one moved for a few minutes. Then Dorothy burst through the door, motorcycle helmet underhand, wearing her confidence like a second skin. She paused, noticing the odd atmosphere in the room.

“So… what’d I miss?”

*******************

Castiel finds Dean later at a bar in Hawaii, ignoring the specialty drinks in favor of hard liquor. He takes a seat beside the demon, watching the waves roll in and out as he waits for Dean to acknowledge his presence. It’s a good twenty minutes before he breaks, which he suspects is a new record for ignoring the angel.

“I kind of wanted to be alone for a while, Cas.”

“We didn’t accomplish anything we set out to do today. Meg would be disappointed.”

“Eh, fuck her.”

“Claire, Jesse, and Sam are set up in the motel. They think they’ve found a wendigo.”

“In Kansas?”

“Supposedly.”

“I think you’re trying to find ways to distract me,” Dean said, downing his drink and asking for two more. “Those are both for me, in case you were wondering.”

“Of course,” Cas said, voice too grave to be serious. His face turned thoughtful as he considered his surroundings. “Why here?”

“What?”

“Why did you come here? Does it hold any memories for you?”

“Hawaii? Are you kidding?” Dean said, a kind of laugh making its way to his lips at last. “No. I hate planes, and that was pretty much the only way to get here when I was alive. I was just thinking, I never really ever got to just hang out on a beach. Ever. Seemed like the thing to do. I’ve heard rumors it can be relaxing.”

“Are the rumors true?” Castiel questioned. “Personally, I find Vicodin more effective.”

“Thanks for the advice, House.”

Castiel took a moment to perceive the salt air, recognize the cool breeze. He wasn’t wasted enough to dull his perceptions, to bring himself down to a more human level so that he could feel these things. The beach was beautiful, the people who filled it interesting, but without drugs he was forced to take it all in as each individual part. It wasn’t relaxing, not to him. Dean seemed to think otherwise.

“Is it seeing your father that’s made you so…?” Castiel asked, unsure of what word to use. Pensive? Upset? Distant? Dean was playful by nature (when he wasn’t angry), and Cas had suspected this was an attribute that had preceded his time in hell, even if in life it had likely been a form of gallows humor, Dean’s imminent death always hanging over him. This was a side rarely seen, and it worried Castiel that Dean would do something reckless. The demon was never this still, always complaining of boredom and keen to be participating in some kind of activity.

“No. Well, yes. But no. Do you believe in fate Cas?”

“I’ve met her on several occasions. She isn’t a fan.”

Dean laughed again at that, finishing one of his two new drinks before grabbing up the other and sipping at it, eyes fixed on the ocean.

“I don’t. Not fate. Not coincidence. None of that. Manipulation, that I can get behind, that I’ve seen.”

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Castiel admitted after Dean had given him a significant look.

“What the hell were you and Sam doing in that town the day I escaped?” Dean asked out loud, though he spoke as though it were more of a thought, one he hadn’t meant to express. “If it had just been one of you, and if you hadn’t been Heaven’s most wanted angel and he hadn’t been my soulless long lost fucking half brother, I could believe it. But it’s too much. Someone’s pulling strings, and I can feel it like an itch behind my skin now, Cas. I may be an evil son of a bitch, through and through, but I make my own decisions. I have to believe that. I can’t have this doubt wriggling away in my head, it’s going to drive me fucking crazy.”

“I… hadn’t considered that,” Castiel admitted. The idea that he was being toyed with set him on edge as much as it clearly did to Dean. Because no matter how terrible the things he had done in his life, he had always relied on himself to find the most correct action to take. The one that would create the least harm. He knew that he had likely been controlled before, Samandriel’s chilling account had assured him of that, but the thought that he had never fully escaped Heaven’s or anybody else’s influence had never occurred to him.

“Yeah, but now it’s always going to be there, in the back of your head,” Dean said, draining the last of his drink. “How much of everything we’ve been through is real? I’m not supposed to be like this, Cas. I’m hunting things that go bump in the night. I spend time with humans, and I don’t even want to kill them most of the time. Me and you… none of this is normal. And I was okay with that before, because… because fuck what I should be. But now, I don’t even know anymore.”

“Don’t think about it,” Castiel said after a while. “If you can’t control it, don’t think about it. Because everything you are right now, it has been your decision. I’m sure of it.”

“And if you’re wrong?” Dean asked.

“I’m not,” Cas said, doing his best to end the conversation, not wanting to go down the roads it would entail. “Do you need another drink?”

“Definitely,” Dean answered. He noted the way Cas’ eyes couldn’t stay in one spot for long, constantly moving as though he were searching out whatever vague feeling of unrest that had come over the both of them. “You need to relax too? I know you’ve still got some weed on you.”

“I’m fine,” Castiel said distractedly, mind still whirring through the possibilities of why exactly he, Dean, and Sam had been in the same town at the same time so long ago. He tried to hide his thoughts from Dean by wearing a blank look on his face, but he could tell the demon wasn’t fooled.

“Sure, you’re fine,” Dean answered. The two stared out at the beach until it was late at night, neither voicing their concerns or opinions, their silence the only way they knew to keep the troubling questions somewhat at bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback can sway whether characters are ignored, brought back, or included in this story but keep in mind I'm a fickle person so nothing is guaranteed. I say this only because I brought in several new characters at once this chapter and the extent to which they'll be involved in the future is variable. Other than that, hope you enjoyed!


	17. Let's Talk About Sex

Jesse was fairly certain what he was about to do was a bad idea. He was under no pretenses that he was, and would continue to be for some time, on thin ice with Castiel, but in all honesty he didn't know who else to talk to. He’d already picked a reasonably populated diner to have the discussion he wanted in, so that if the angel got angry he would have to control his reaction somewhat. Jesse swallowed hard, thinking about what an angry angel could do in a public place, even one like Castiel, and almost reconsidered, but at the last second sent out a prayer asking if he could speak with the angel.

“Hello,” Castiel said, appearing in the seat across from him. Jesse nodded his head in greeting, staring at the table now that he had lost whatever brief spike of courage that had allowed him to make the call. Castiel spoke up again, sounding worried now. “Jesse, is everything alright?”

“Yes, everything’s fine,” Jess rushed to assure him. Castiel relaxed slightly, and Jesse cursed himself for worrying him, however briefly. It had been tearing Claire up recently, how withdrawn the angel had become. He’d taken to extended solo missions, and would at times spend days away from them without even calling. Jesse had an hunch that it had something to do with Dean, since the demon grew more restless and frustrated by the day, and according to Sam, was getting what could accurately be described as even more vicious in his hunting and torturing techniques. It didn’t take a genius to figure out they weren’t talking, were taking every opportunity to avoid the other. It occurred to Jesse that now may not be the best time for asking for relationship advice, but he had to talk to someone, and Cas was his last resource. “I just wanted to ask you something.”

Castiel waited a few moments for Jesse to elaborate. After the teen just looked embarrassed and cleared his throat a couple of times, Cas figured out he would need a little bit of encouragement.

“Yes?” Cas asked. Perhaps that was a bit brusque. “Jesse, I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel that you can’t speak with me, but that’s not the case. Whatever it is, I am willing to listen and-“

“Claire and I are thinking about having sex,” Jesse said, all in a rush and looking vaguely concerned that Cas would crush him on the spot. The fact that if he took off his bracelets he would be more than capable of overpowering the angel was somehow not at all comforting. Cas didn’t say anything for a few seconds and Jesse looked up from where he had been staring at the table to gauge his reaction. Castiel smiled sedately and then ordered coffee from a waitress that had wandered over to their table. “You’re not saying anything.”

“What Claire chooses to do with her body is not really my business,” Castiel pointed out, thanking the waitress when she returns with a kind smile. “As long as both of you are certain, and neither of you feels pressured or uncomfortable…”

Castiel trailed off, noting the embarrassed and uncertain look on Jesse’s face.

“I just need to talk it through,” he said quietly.

“Jesse?” Castiel asked. Jesse nodded to show he was paying attention. “Why are you asking me about this? Honestly, I’d pretty much think I’d be the last person you’d want to go to.”

“Well, Sam’s not exactly the most helpful guy where this kind of thing is concerned. Either Sam,” Jesse pointed out. “And Dean pretty much told me congrats and then threatened to slit my throat if I ever hurt Claire, so that wasn’t exactly the advice I was looking for either. Normally I’d ask Gabriel about something like this,” Jesse paused after that, sounding a little sad. “He was good at stuff like that. Bobby always got so flustered with anything remotely approaching relationships, not that I exactly had many of those,” he said with a quiet laugh. Castiel could see the guilt in his expression, and wondered if the separation from the man and the angel who had looked out for him was part of what was so obviously disconcerting him about furthering his physical relationship with Claire.

“What do you want to know?” Castiel asked at last. Jesse took a long breath and started to explain.

****************

Dean had spent the afternoon playing video games with Claire, but he was still feeling antsy. What he could really use was a good hunt, but despite Sam’s best efforts, he just hadn’t been able to find one the past couple of days. Dean looked over to where Sam was hunching over his computer scanning through articles, or reading over his notes, or trying to find some kind of diagnosis for exactly what was going on in his head. It was so odd, to have this new added dimension when he looked at him. He was still the soulless psychopath-mostly, at least-that had kept him company since his escape from hell, but he was also evidence of his dad’s infidelity, the little brother Dean had never really wanted. Sam seemed to feel his eyes on him and looked back, smiling at Dean nervously. So it was Soulful Sam today, it seemed.

Everyday was a gamble on which Sam they’d have to deal with, and the control his original personality had seemed to have over the changes was fading by the day until it seemed almost entirely random which version of himself Sam was. Luckily, both Sams were now at least aware of what the other one was going through, so there was no more confusion over time jumps. Unfortunately, Sam’s original personality had decided to sometimes mimic the other personality to see if the others could tell the difference. They could tell the difference. It had stopped being entertaining.

Sam turned back around. If Dean had to place a bet, he’d say that Sam was reading through notes, trying to trigger memories that were still lost to him. Claire had been careful to mark which passages were okay for him to read, and which ones he should avoid. She had relocated almost every passage describing torture so that the new Sam wouldn’t read them. Dean might have laughed at how odd that was, a teenage girl monitoring what was and wasn’t appropriate to read for a grown man, except he felt pissed and restless and not at all in the mood to be laughing.

“I’m going for a walk,” Dean announced loudly, throwing down his controller. Usually when he felt like this, like crawling out of his skin and scratching at the mark on his arm until his fingernails hit bone, he’d go somewhere with Cas. Sometimes that was enough, in an odd way. It wasn’t that the blood lust went away, it was just tempered, easier to handle. But Cas had hardly looked at him since Dean’s half drunk revelations-and who knew demons could even get drunk?-about the possibility of manipulation in their lives.

“I’ll go with you,” Claire said, practically bounding out after him. Dean didn’t really feel like company, but it was pretty clear Claire wanted to talk about something, so he decided not to teleport away for now. He waited until they were a little ways away from the motel room before asking her exactly what was bothering her, unconsciously rubbing his right forearm as he walked.

“What’s bugging you kiddo?” he asked.

“I want to have sex with Jesse,” Claire said, as bluntly as she said anything.

“Yeah, and I want to have sex with young Patrick Swayze. What do you want to actually talk to me about?” Dean asked.

Claire faltered at Dean’s directness, obviously having expected to have to defend herself somehow. When she answered, her voice came out quieter than before.

“I’m scared,” she admitted.

“That’s understandable,” Dean said, sitting down on a bench nearby, knowing that this was probably going to be a long conversation. Claire didn’t sit, instead switching her weight from leg to leg, looking uncomfortable but determined. At Dean’s words she seemed to relax a little, though a heavy look of skepticism crossed her face.

“Oh really. Like you’ve ever been scared of sex. Before you and Cas hooked up, we couldn’t go anywhere without you trying to chat up half the town.”

Dean flinched at the mention of Cas’ name, a mixture of anger and a kind of longing making his jaw clench. Claire noticed and seemed about to bring it up, but he decided to cut her off.

“Y’know, I still remember my first kiss,” Dean said conversationally. “I was fifteen and I ran away from home-”

“Was it a prostitute?” Claire asked sarcastically, clearly a little pissed that he’d spoken over what she was about to say.

“Shut up and listen,” Dean said, letting his irritation peek through. Claire crossed her arms and waited. “What I was going to say was I got caught stealing food and ended up at this sort of home for wayward kids. My dad was so pissed off at me for running away, he just sort of left me there for a bit, to teach me a lesson. I met this girl Robin and she played the guitar. Got her to teach me a bit.”

“And let me guess, you screwed up your courage and planted one right on her lips? That’s not helpful for me, hotshot.”

“Actually, no. She kissed me and I was pretty damn surprised. I was too scared to even think about this girl like that. Convinced she was way out of my league. And it was hard getting over that but after almost a year at Sonny’s, I stopped thinking she was too good for me. Damn, I haven’t thought of Robin in— must be centuries. Hell time at least.”

“That’s not why I’m scared,” Claire said, not entirely sure that was true. “I mean, I used to be worried Jesse didn’t want me, but after all the time we’ve spent together, I’m not worried about that anymore.”

“What are you worried about, then?”

Claire opened her mouth and then closed it. She looked up and changed the subject before Dean could push her for answers.

“Can you just tell me something? Some kind of advice?”

“Anything you need, kiddo.”

**********************

“What I really want to know is what it’s like,” Jesse admitted, after convincing Cas that he did understand the mechanics to some degree and knew the importance of protection. Castiel had never really worried about the latter in regards to his own health, considering he couldn’t contract diseases and was in the habit of healing his one night stands from any they might be suffering from. He had always been careful to use a condom with women anyway so that no nephelim would be born as a result. It was rare, but it did happen, and Castiel was not keen on giving his brethren any more reasons to hate him. 

Human sexuality was in no form disapproved of in Heaven, it was just seen as a strange aspect of humanity. Even the great variation and deep emotions that defined the act were of little interest to most angels unless they were stationed on Earth over great enough length of time to become curious. Most of them didn’t understand the way a vessel slowly changed you, gave you strange desires and quirks, often different even than what the original occupant had enjoyed about life. Angels liked sex, that much Castiel was certain of considering their tendency to participate in it when given the chance, but most held themselves above it, felt it was a result of their vessel, not a direct consequence of their own desires. Since Castiel was alone in his body, he had come to accept that his desire for sex stemmed from his own being in addition to being a human desire put upon him. Perhaps it was some attempt to reestablish the intimacy he no longer had with the angels, a way to be as close as possible to another person, though in all honesty he was aware most actual humans simply didn’t see it that way.

“Intense,” Castiel settled on, deciding that word best answered what Jesse was asking in a simple manner. “I’d describe it as a spiritual experience, though obviously I’m biased. I wasn’t born human, so lust isn’t what first drove me to look for sex. I always just wanted to be close to someone else, no matter for how short a time. I assume you love Claire?”

“Yeah,” Jesse said, a small smile flashing across his face for a moment. “Yeah, I think I do.”

“Good, I’ve been told that makes it better,” Castiel said, surprising Jesse slightly at his blunt appraisal, though that was soon remedied. “And Claire needs someone who loves her. She doesn’t trust easily, and she’ll be scared. I know what you went through Jesse, but you had Gabriel and Bobby to help you. She had no one. She had to learn how to survive, and that meant not letting people in.”

“I know that,” Jesse said, though Castiel heard slight frustration in his voice. “But maybe I’m scared too, have you considered that?”

Cas sat back on his side of the booth, raising his eyebrows, and doing his best to look understanding.

“What if I suck at it?” Jesse asked at last, some of his frustration draining away. “God, what if she laughs at me? Or if I do it wrong, and she ends whatever it is we have? And it turns out I left everything behind for nothing, because I’m not good enough for her? I don’t think I’d be able to bear it.”

“Do you really think that Claire would do that?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know, I’m not exactly familiar with this kind of thing. I was lucky I got to go to school for a while, and even that stopped when you guys found me. And I didn’t even have friends, it’s not like there was anyone that even looked at me before her.”

Cas wasn’t unfamiliar with loneliness, and he knew how badly it could hurt. How the thought of losing someone else could fill one with dread. Cas thought briefly of Jo, rightfully angry and hurt, cutting him out of her life as easily as Fate might cut one of her golden strings. And then how Gabriel had called to him for help, and watched as he was killed by Raphael that first time. He knew betrayal and had betrayed others, but he knew also that Claire wouldn’t do the same to Jesse. It simply wasn’t in her nature.

“Claire wouldn’t hurt you. And besides, sex is like anything. It takes practice, it’s better with communication, and requires a certain degree of cooperation. It’s not instantly going to be amazing. And it’s not much like pornography, which I had to learn the hard way,” Castiel said, a rueful look on his face. “Word to the wise, apparently saying ‘I learned it from the pizza man’ is not a turn on.”

That got Jesse to laugh, which lifted Castiel’s spirits somewhat. It was nice to see some of the boy’s fears slip away. Though Cas had not shared his changing convictions, he had grown to like Jesse, and couldn’t deny that the boy made Claire happier than she usually was. He was so careful with her, and yet seemed to be entirely himself. Cas still feared what would happen if he were to change, but slowly that particular concern had been diminishing as Jesse proved himself to have no desire to control Claire, only to be with her.

“I know I’m making a big deal out of nothing. People have sex all the time. I shouldn’t be freaking out. It’s not like it’s some stranger, anyway. It’s just Claire,” Jesse said, a kind of tension that had been filling him starting to leave him. “And she loves me. I know she loves me.”

“Yes, she does,” Cas said, finishing the last of his coffee.

“Is it stupid I’m still nervous?”

“No… but Jesse-”

“Are you going to threaten me too?”

“I don’t need to threaten you, I’m sure Dean did fine with that,” Cas said, imagining for a moment the likely colorful and cheerfully spoken threats Dean would come up with at a moment’s notice. The thought touched the inner turmoil he had been trying to avoid since realizing the likely manipulation in placing Dean in his life. He shouldn’t be thinking of a demon making threats with any kind of affection, and yet here he was almost smiling at the thought of Dean doing his best Liam Neeson impression for the sake of scaring a mostly harmless nineteen year old. Castiel shook the thoughts and continued with what he needed to tell Jesse. “I wanted to tell you that it’s okay to have sex, and it’s okay not to. Just because Claire might want to now doesn’t mean you have to, too. If you have reservations, never be afraid to say them.”

“Okay,” Jesse said a little warily, clearly not having expected that piece of advice. Castiel was aware that many men believed it to be a natural state to simply desire sex all the time, but frequently they were just as susceptible as women to fears and doubts and hesitation. They were just less likely to share this information for fear of not appearing masculine enough. When he had first begun to interact with humanity, this had confused him, since the idea of gender was entirely foreign to angels, and the idea that certain traits defined each gender even more bizarre. He wasn’t sure how affected Jesse would be by these ideas, since he had grown up so isolated, though it didn’t hurt to tell him. “And thank you, Cas.”

“I’m here if you need someone. And I’m sorry that you couldn’t speak to Gabriel,” Cas answered before flying away.

******************

Dean was thoroughly unimpressed with Claire’s listening skills.

“Wait, you lost your virginity to a girl named Rhonda?”

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”

“Rhonda? Really? There’s no way anyone with the name Rhonda is sexy. It’s a scientific impossibility.”

“Oh trust me, she was sexy. God that was a fun night. And I’ll tell you, there’s nothing like making a deal to free up a few inhibitions. Having nine years left to live is a great way to make you a little adventurous.”

“Don’t go into details. Please. I’d rather not have to pour acid in my ears.”

“Prude. Now where was I… oh yeah, so there was that. And then there was whoever wanted to have a good time. It’s supposed to be fun, not something that ties your stomach in knots, you get what I’m saying, Claire?”

“Yeah,” Claire said, staring out into space for a moment. “I get that.”

“Look, what’s the real problem here?” Dean asked at last when Claire just kept thinking and not responding further. “Claire, can you tell me why you’re scared?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Well, you’re stupid and I deal with you,” Dean joked, ignoring the hard kick to his shin when he said that. “How about I tell you what my mom told me when she gave me the talk?”

“I don’t need the talk. I know about the birds and the bees.”

“No, just listen for a second,” Dean said, doing his best to remember the advice is mother had given him. “Sex is supposed to feel good. Physically, emotionally, you name it. It’s not supposed to hurt for either person. If you don’t think sleeping with Jesse is going to make you feel good, then don’t do it. It’s simple as that.”

Claire took a deep breath before staring at the ground and admitting what she’d been trying not to think about.

“You know what I worry about most? Someday something will possess me. An angel, a demon, a monster. Something. And I’ll still be there, in my body, but someone else will be pulling all the strings. I’ll be there, and I’ll have to watch as they kill or maim or destroy, and they’ll be nothing I can do about it.”

Dean stared at her, confused at the sudden change in conversation.

“What does that have to do with-”

“I fucking know it doesn’t make sense,” Claire said through gritted teeth. “But the thought of someone inside me, even Jesse, it freaks me the fuck out, okay?”

“Well then,” Dean said, finding it all kinds of ironic that Claire would confess this fear to a demon possessing a corpse, but also finding it pretty damn prudent not to bring that up at the moment. “Take it slow. Figure it out. Jesse isn’t going to leave you if you don’t want to have sex right away.”

“He could.”

“Not if he wants to live with his insides on his insides.”

“He could crush you like a bug.”

“If it helps him sleep at night to think that, sure.”

Claire laughed lightly, but stopped abruptly, finally meeting Dean’s eyes for the first time since the conversation had started.

“I don’t want him to leave me. I really don’t. I know you’re just going to say that if he leaves me over something like that he doesn’t deserve me, or some other motivational shit. But if you thought Cas was going to go, is there anything you wouldn’t try to get him to stay?”

And just like that, Dean was closed off, no longer relaxed or joking. His left hand moved to the opposite forearm, pressing down hard. Claire unconsciously stepped back, unnerved by the sudden change in Dean’s demeanor.

“Cas wouldn’t leave. He always comes back,” Dean said quietly. Claire realized things must be even worse between the two of them than she thought for what she’d said to have struck such a deep nerve.

“I’m sorry…” Claire said uncertainly. Dean ignored her, standing up and walking back towards the motel room with Claire struggling to keep up without running. He opened the door, and inside Sam was still at his computer, though if Claire had to take a guess, the soulless personality had taken charge, because Sam didn’t flinch at Dean slamming the door open and instead looked up curious.

Worse still, Cas had been standing over his shoulder, reading about whatever cases Sam had been looking at. Dean froze for a moment, anger and hope warring on his features as Cas looked over at him, looking for a moment like he might say something.

“Cas, can we talk?” Dean asked, after a little pause. Cas’ stared for a moment, then shook his head.

“I need to check in with Balthazar,” Cas said evenly. “Make sure Samandriel is keeping the war in Hell balanced… I’m sorry.”

It was an excuse and they both knew it. Still, with a flutter of wings, Cas had gone and Dean felt like punching something. Punching anything.

“I’ve got a case,” Sam said, after a few seconds of silence in which Dean fought down the urge to murder every- and anyone in a five mile radius. “Something in Colombus, Ohio-”

“I’ll take care of it,” Dean said, disappearing without another word.

******************

“Hey, Jesse,” Claire said, smiling when he walked into the motel room. Sam had already gone to sleep, and Claire was reading through the day’s notes on the pull out since it was her turn to have the most uncomfortable bed. “Think we could talk?”

“Course,” Jesse answered sitting at the edge of the bed. “I wanted to talk to you too, actually.”

Claire took a deep breath, closing her laptop and setting it aside before looking Jesse in the eye.

“I’m not ready to have sex. I know I’m the one that brought it up, but I talked to Dean about it, and I just don’t think I did that for the right reasons.”

Jesse snorted quietly, earning a glare from Claire, which he was quick to soothe.

“No, I’m not making fun of you, it’s just I talked to Cas. Today. And came to pretty much the same conclusion. Fuck, we make a pair, don’t we?”

Claire stared for a moment before starting to laugh. Jesse started laughing again too, and after they started it got hard to stop. A few death threats from a half asleep Sam was enough to calm them, but relief was obvious in them both.

“Not that I don’t want to, just not right now,” Jesse said, after they’d finally calmed down. “We’ll get to it when we get to it. I love you, you know that?”

Claire stood up and kissed Jesse, unable to keep a smile off her lips.

“Yeah, me too,” she muttered. “Can we… can we sleep together though? Actually sleeping I mean.”

Jesse was surprised at the request, since until then they had kept pretty clearly to the unspoken rule that they went to sleep in different beds. Still, the thought of Claire beside him made something in his chest feel funny, and he found himself nodding. When they were lying side by side, Claire tracing patterns on his arms in a way that made chills run up his spine, she started to speak again, quiet but determined.

“I don’t know how to let people get close,” she said, staring at her finger on his arm instead of him. “I just don’t. I’m worried you’re going to change me.”

“Change you?” Jesse asked, confused.

“It’s not rational, it’s just there. But I want you to be close. I swear I do. I just haven’t figured out how yet.”

Jesse pressed a kiss to Claire’s forehead and waited until she met his eyes.

“All the time you need. Like I said, we’ll get there. Both of us. Sound good?”

“Sounds like you’re a damn therapist.”

“I’m not, but I did once steal a couple’s counseling book from Bobby when he was dating our neighbor who was a shrink, and-”

“Go to sleep, Jesse,” Claire said, knowing that sometimes Jesse’s stories could get a little long winded. “Tell me in the morning.”

It felt right to go to sleep like that, wrapped in each other’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cain is going to be making an appearance soon, if anybody cares. Hope you enjoyed!


	18. First is the Worst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long ass chapter, fyi.
> 
> If you don't care about spoilers, see end for a warning.

Castiel sighed heavily as he became aware of Dean’s presence. He was at a corner booth in a Biggerson’s, spying on the people around him in some sort of attempt to forget his own troubles. He had managed to be briefly amused by a new father almost fainting at the news his wife or girlfriend was pregnant- and why she would tell him in a Biggerson’s Castiel had no idea- though in general he still found it too easy for his mind to wander.

“Would you like something?” asked a waitress, addressing Dean. She sounded strained, and Cas knew the reason was because her hours had recently been cut and she wasn’t sure how she would make her next rent. Cas watched as Dean smiled up at her, a counterfeit of his usual easy going nature. She managed a smile back, waiting for his answer.

“How about some coffee, sweetheart,” he said with a wink. After that she left and his smile dropped, an he regarded Cas steadily, waiting for him to speak.

“She appreciated that,” Castiel said at last, staring down into the almost empty mug in front of him. He caught the motion of Dean shrugging in his peripheral vision.

“Angels are the ones who don’t have manners, not demons,” Dean said nonchalantly.

“That’s patently untrue.”

“Is it? Considering the Arctic tundra of a cold shoulder you’ve been giving me, I’d say angels are pretty damn inconsiderate.”

Castiel opened his mouth for a second, as though to speak, but shut it. He wasn’t sure how to explain. Dean knew what it was to be tortured, of course. To slowly have everything that made up you pulled away by the blade of a knife. But he could remember it, and Castiel couldn’t, only had a vague idea of exactly how his mind might have been altered from Samandriel’s tales. And he had been, perhaps not okay, but able to tolerate that fact until Dean had mentioned that perhaps there had been further manipulation. Perhaps someone else was still pulling his strings.

“I don’t want to feel this way,” Castiel said, and that was a start, but probably not one the demon wanted to hear. “You are everything I’m meant to loathe. The corruption of the pinnacle of creation. The evidence of my brother’s fall from grace.”

“Well, Jesus, don’t sugar coat it,” Dean said. “It’s not exactly like I was planning on being this fucking invested in a drug addict angel that still hasn’t managed to take the stick out of his ass.”

“I’m not an addict,” Castiel said a little too loudly, distracted for a moment, but refocusing a second later. “This isn’t about you. I’m well aware that I have flaws, and perhaps you can make an argument that I’m no better than you or any other demon are in the grand scheme of things. This is about free will.”

“Well, feel free to tell me about it, then,” Dean said, though his eyes already seemed lighter. And this was why Castiel couldn’t speak to him, because for some reason every conversation they had seemed to draw Cas in, made him want to lay himself bare with no restrictions left to protect himself from what he saw as inevitable. Dean was going to kill him someday, he’d always known it, but it wasn’t until recently he’d realized how much that would hurt. He’d thought nothing could surpass the feeling of looking into Gabriel’s guilty eyes as Raphael snapped his fingers, but now he was beginning to realize that a new level of pain had suddenly become available. Perhaps if he did die from Dean’s hand, God would at last be kind and let him rest. Though probably not.

“I’d rather not.”

“Right,” Dean said. The anger was back. Anger, Castiel could handle, and return with ease. He felt his shoulders tense up, and he matched the glare Dean was giving him. Dean’s left hand twitched. “Well, Claire found a shifter in Milwaukee.”

“I’m sure you can handle it.”

“She misses you, you know that? I don’t know why, considering you’re pretty much acting like a huge prick right now, but she does. Whatever issue you’re having with me, maybe don’t take it out on Claire. Especially considering the fact that you’re the one who fucked her up in the first place.”

Cas wasn’t sure what to say to that.

“I’ve been back.”

“For maybe five minutes at a time. See, I get the pretty face is just a cover and everything, but I didn’t know that my demon-ness bothered you so much you couldn’t stand to be in the same room as me for any longer than that.”

Except that wasn’t it, Castiel thought. If he only hated Dean, then his life would be much easier. Instead, he had over the course of almost a year grown to admit to himself that Dean was important to him, for what reasons he could hardly fathom. And that was where it all fell apart, because if he was being forced to feel this way, or if this were some kind of test, he wanted no part of it.

“I already told you this isn’t about you,” Cas said. “I won’t be a tool. I won’t be used. Not ever again. So as long as I have even the slightest doubt that whatever connection we have is genuine, I can’t do this.”

“I thought you said you were sure. You said I made my decisions, and that you were sure.”

“Well, I lied. Now, are you satisfied?”

Dean looked like he was about to answer, but the waitress is back with his coffee. Dean thanked her and Castiel shelled out a hundred dollars for the shitty coffee, because he knew what it felt like to have no one to rely on, and maybe a little extra will help her. Perhaps he should feel badly, considering that the money was obtained through ill gotten means, and he likely would just replace it with more, stolen from someone else’s credit card. His entire life seemed to be a repetition of misdeeds and acts of kindness. It seemed as though he couldn’t do anything right without also doing wrong. As an angel, he wasn’t one for Eastern philosophy, but the concepts of yin and yang were not entirely without merit as far as he could see.

“So, shifters?” Dean asked when the silence began to shift towards oppressive. Cas nodded, nonverbally agreeing to go on the hunt. Dean could already tell that Cas was going to go back to ignoring him, the nonverbal cue the first sign. He decided to give one more push. It couldn’t hurt. “And Cas? Staying away doesn’t mean you aren’t being used. It just means you aren’t happy. Think about that.”

Castiel hesitated flying back to the motel Claire, Jesse, and Sam were currently staying in, but in the end he knew where he would end up. He just wished he knew that he was the one pulling the strings.

*****************

Sam had agreed to be bait. At least, he had a couple of hours ago. Now that the smart side of his head was back in control, he wasn’t so sure that was one of his better ideas. That part of him was so influenced by emotional manipulation and happy to be told he was doing a good job, by a demon no less, was not exactly a satisfying part of having a soul. In fact, Sam was still plotting methods of removing the damn thing, though he could tell that everyone else had already given up on the idea. If anything, they were beginning to like the new Sam. After Cas had started disappearing for long periods of time, Dean had even begun spending more time with the other Sam talking. But that wasn’t him, not really. That was some invader in his body, and he was slowly taking over and nobody seemed to care. Not that Sam would care if the same thing happened to one of them, but he didn’t have emotions. What was their excuse for watching him slowly be replaced?

And more than that, he didn’t understand how it was happening. He had lived in this body for twenty six years before he’d had a soul shoved back in and his mind had been forced to create someone else to adapt. He should have more control. He did have more control, but it had slowly faded until it was anyone’s guess which Sam they would be talking to. It was frustrating beyond belief, taking a back seat in his own mind as the other Sam made decisions for him, especially considering how many of those decisions were objectively bad ones. Like agreeing to be bait for a shifter that could kill him. It’s not like he can’t fight a one, it’s just that he's not particularly keen on being in a position where he could end up dead or with a shifter that has his genetic information.

He understands the necessity of course. What they have is essentially a strange mix of serial killer and human. Most shifters kill out of loneliness, as far as Sam can tell, but there is something seriously wrong with this particular shifter. The murders aren’t so much a cry for attention as they are a carefully planned out to the point of being ritualistic series of murders, after which the shifter spends a few weeks pretending to be his victim and slowly poisoning everything good the person had in their life. Sam’s not sure if the last part is on purpose or if the monster is really just that bad at interacting with other people.

The main problem is, like most serial killers, the shifter has a type. That’s not altogether surprising to Sam, because in his research he’d concluded that although shifters like to constantly change faces they will consistently go back to one or two they favor, especially when under severe distress. They had no form of their own, so they picked the one they liked best. Unfortunately for Sam, apparently this shifter liked being tall and dark haired.

Personally if he were a shifter, he’d find it suspicious that a strange man who obviously wasn’t from the area, just happened to be just the kind of victim he was looking for, and was wandering around alleys late at night. Then again, no one ever said shifters were smart.

Sam felt the air shift as someone tried to hit him over the head. He ducked down fast enough that the blow glanced off him, though it was still slightly disorientating. Luckily, the shifter was surprised enough at his reaction that he didn’t attack again right away. Sam managed to back up enough to get a good look at the guy and groaned. Apparently the last vic had about fifty pounds on him, and wasn’t exactly a slouch at the gym either. Not that Sam wasn’t muscular, just he didn’t have the time to be a fucking body builder like the asshole that let himself get taken out by a shifter. Sam wished that the monster could have been a bit more stereotypical and gone after young blonde girls like normal serial killers. Then Claire could’ve been bait. Yeah, right, like that would ever happen.

Sam pulled out the small silver blade from the inside of his boot and waved it at the shifter.

“Hunter,” the thing snarled, launching himself at Sam. Sam was quick enough to twist out of his grip, but he was already cursing himself. The thing had managed to get a hold of a little bit of his skin and was now running off. Sam knew he was going to shed his old form and copy Sam’s. That would make the thing a real bitch to fight. Sam chased after it as best as he could manage and sent a quick prayer to Castiel at the same time so that he would know Sam had found the shifter.

Sam ran into the next alley and stopped at the sight of himself in too loose clothes, extra skin slipping off his face. The shifter grimaced, looking Sam up and down before clutching his head tightly.

“What are you?” he muttered. “You don’t even know anymore do you? This was not worth the twenty thousand bucks. God, what the hell is wrong with your head?”

Sam focused in on the more important part of the sentence.

“What do you mean twenty thousand dollars? Someone sent you?” he asked, flipping his knife and pointing it at the shifter. The flash of silver definitely drew the things attention, but he was obviously still a little distracted trying to deal with the mess that was Sam’s brain.

“Wasn’t supposed to say that,” he said with a smile. “You going to turn me over to your big bad older brother? Let him cut me up for answers? That’s pretty twisted.”

“You act like I care.”

“Not you, but he can hear too. And that bothers you. He’s starting to worm his way through the rest of your head, and you know it. Soon you’ll be all gone. Are you scared?”

Sam didn’t know why he did it, but the silver knife in his hand is thrown through the shifter’s heart. The thing fell to the ground, and Sam wondered if he was suicidal or just seriously misjudged the situation. It didn’t matter, he told himself.

“Anger’s an emotion, Sammy,” said the shifter with its last breath.

**************

Castiel wasn’t sure why, but it was more difficult than usual to find Sam, and by the time he did, the shifter was already dead. Sam was standing over it, knife in hand. Cas watched for another moment, surprised when Sam shoved the knife in his hand straight through his doppleganger’s forehead. Sam wasn’t one for excessive violence. He was always curious about its effects, but the concept in itself held no appeal for him.

“I think it’s dead,” Castiel said. Dean had appeared only a second before he’d opened his mouth to say so, and rolled his eyes at the angel, having missed the context of the declaration.

“Nice detective work there, Poirot. Hey Sam, you Dexter or Quaid right now?”

“I’m the one that actually has brains,” Sam muttered, still staring menacingly down at the shifter.

“Dexter then. Well, thanks for stealing my fun jackass.”

Sam seemed to collect himself after that, at last managing to appear a little more neutral.

“Sorry I forgot to account for your inability to function without beating someone bloody.”

“Apology accepted. Let’s get out of here. That thing stinks.”

Except leaving apparently wasn’t as easy as they thought it was going to be.

“Hello, boys.”

Castiel’s knife made an instant appearance. Crowley rolled his eyes at the gesture, though made the decision not to get closer in case the angel decided to be a little unpredictable. He had put Jo through a certain degree of pain the last time they had met and attempted to kill Castiel himself, though in all honesty that was pretty much par for their course as far as their relationship was concerned.

“What are you doing here?” Dean asked.

“Well, you lot are hard to catch to have a chat with. So I hired a shifter to draw you in. Thanks for ending him, by the way. Saved me twenty grand. It’s not easy finding people who will throw their lives away for money, surprisingly. And the ones who do often take measures to make sure they get paid.”

“Money is worthless to you,” Castiel said, and Crowley smiled in victory noticing the angel had lowered his knife and was glaring at him hostilely instead of actively trying to attack him. Well, at least Castiel knew enough to know that if the King of Hell wanted to talk with you, you should probably listen. “What do you want, Crowley?”

“Someone’s been killing angels.”

“No. That couldn’t be happening. Nobody tries to kill angels ever,” Cas said, deadpan sarcasm causing Dean to snort. Crowley noted the way Cas’ hand clenched into a fist at the sound, a glance meant to quell the laughter thrown at the demon. Frustrated then, Crowley surmised. Interesting.

“You two fighting?” he asked with a smirk. He could tell by Sam’s expression that he’d guessed right, since he seemed glad that someone else was mentioning it. Crowley was surprised to catch a glint of something too. Something that looked very much like a soul. Well, things had certainly developed since he’d last seen the gang of misfits. “Ah, I see. And where’s your fake children? Left them at home?”

“Do you have a point, or should we get to the part where I tear out your heart?” Castiel asked. Well, straight to business then.

“Someone non-angelic then has been trying to kill angels. Surely you’ve heard that the base of rogues has gone underground to protect the little messiah they’ve all been gravitating around.”

“I understand that some felt Samandriel’s life was at risk and took steps to protect him.”

“Well, I know who it is. And out of the goodness of my heart, I thought I would share it with you lot.”

Castiel laughed at that. He couldn’t help it.

“Do you want to tell me the real reason?”

“My demons have been dying too. In large numbers. Someone wants to open the cage. I know preventing that is one of your interests, and there’s a bonus in it for your off again star crossed romance.”

“I torture people for fun. Maybe you should watch what you call me,” Dean said, though he obviously wasn’t as bothered at the name as he was at Cas’ reaction to it. Crowley kept talking.

“You’re a demon, join the club darling. We all torture people for fun. Well, I suppose I’ll get to it then. Your friend Cain who gave you that wicked little scar on your arm? He’s out of hell, and he’s taking out angels and demons alike. Anyone who’s against apocalypse now ends up dead. You can see why this would be concerning to me.”

Dean frowned. He hadn’t known Cain well, had met him very briefly in his stint in hell before the demon had passed the mark on to him. And yet, even the few times he had seen Cain, despite his moniker as the Father of Murder, he had never struck Dean as particularly inclined to kill. He had banished himself to the depths of hell after all. And, well, he didn’t torture people for fun. Nobody told Cain what to do in hell, he just sort of drifted place to place. Dean still didn’t know exactly what the demon had seen in him, though at the time he hadn’t really cared. He just wanted to escape. Hell was an endless cycle of enduring and inflicting pain, and the satisfaction he’d gotten from finally getting his chance to make Alistair scream in pain had worn off centuries before then. The fucker had just gotten off on it anyways. That’s why he’d let Dean do it in the first place. Dean had never understood that, how so many of the demons around him, under Alistair’s careful tutelage, had begun to find they could feel some kind of release out of the pain they were being put through. Maybe it was his mother’s words that sex wasn’t supposed to hurt that he’d held on to that kept him from ever mixing the concepts of sex and torture in his mind. Maybe it was just the numbness he’d finally managed to build up, enough to be ruthless with a knife. At least, mostly.

“That doesn’t sound like Cain,” Dean commented. “Thought he locked himself in hell so he wouldn’t kill anything.”

“Well, if I had answers, do you think I’d be here with you three idiots?” Crowley said. “You both have the mark. Figure out why he’s suddenly team Lucifer and fix it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have panicking followers to return to.”

After Crowley had disappeared, Castiel turned so he could look at both Sam and Dean.

“Should we…?”

“Check it out? Normally I’d say no just out of spite, and it is Crowley,” Dean said. “But I kinda want to see what this is about. Besides, I should probably thank the guy that made it possible for me to get out.”

“He’s killing demons and angels,” Castiel pointed out. “We fall pretty squarely under his demographic.”

“That’s fair,” Dean admitted. “Maybe we could-”

“Well, you’re not sending me as bait again,” Sam said decidedly. “Can we leave now? I’d really like to not still be here when this guy starts rotting.”

Sam was then teleported back to the motel room where Jesse and Claire had apparently been making out. Throwing a remote at them turned out to be an effective method of getting them to stop, though Sam ultimately decided the head ache he got from listening to Claire bitch at him afterwards was worse than if he had just ignored them.

****************

Cain was too easy to find, Castiel knew. It had taken almost no effort to track the demon down, and the only explanation was that he wanted to be. He was almost casual, staring Castiel down from where he sat at some small cafe in New Mexico. The demon gestured for him to sit down, and Castiel did so carefully, aware that the man across from him deserved a certain amount of respect despite his current actions. He was afflicted and had resisted for centuries the blood lust that came with the mark. A year with Dean dealing with the same affliction had shown Castiel just how hard that was.

“I have an idea why you’re here,” Cain said, sipping at his tea carefully. Castiel read the mug rather than answer him, wondering if the patrons of the cafe really thought placing Save the Bees on their dishes would have any positive impact on the environment. It was an easier mental musing that having to once again discuss matters of life and death with someone much more powerful than Castiel himself.

“Enlighten me,” Castiel said, deciding to let Cain take the lead in the conversation, at least at first. He had no clues as to why Cain was behaving the way he was, nor any idea why he would think it natural for Castiel to look for him. He was fairly certain Cain would know who he was, only because every demon on Earth knew well enough which angel it was that had derailed the apocalypse. If anything, it would be more natural for Castiel to stay as far away from the demon as possible, since he was a likely target for anyone who wanted to set Lucifer free.

“I have no love for Lucifer,” Cain said calmly. “You seem nervous. Just thought I’d clarify.”

“You kill in his name.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Cain said, folding his hands in front of his mug. Cas caught sight of a flash of ethereal strands laced together around his wrist. His eyes widened in understanding.

“Someone bound you.”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me who?”

“Now, Castiel, you’re smarter than that,” Cain said dismissively. “At least your reputation would have me believe so.”

“You shouldn’t believe rumors. Often they are inaccurate,” Castiel responded. It had to have been an angel that placed the spell on Cain. Not just any angel, an archangel. It wasn’t like binding Death, or another supernatural creature. Cain had a soul, and there weren’t many beings powerful enough to control a soul without explicit permission. That was why demons needed to make deals to gain more souls for hell. Control of a soul almost always required consent. “You must be resisting orders to have told me this much.”

“Bending orders. You’re on my list, you know.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

“Not today. Not ever if you listen to me.”

Castiel nodded to indicate he was listening.

“I have the understanding you are involved with a Dean Winchester.”

“I travel with him and several others,” Castiel replied carefully. He didn’t know why he bothered. It wasn’t as though Cain wouldn’t know the rumors of the nature of their relationship which had preceded even any action on either of his or Dean’s parts. “Why do you ask?”

“He’s the only one who can kill me.”

Castiel glanced at Cain’s right arm. There, raised from his flesh was the same mark that decorated Dean’s skin. It looked angrier than Dean’s did, raised and red. Cain didn’t flinch from inspection, instead apparently waiting for Castiel to respond.

“And you want to die?”

“I’m breaking a very important promise. I’d like rectify that. And you’d like to stop Lucifer from rising to power,” said Cain. “It seems like a mutually beneficial enterprise.”

“And Dean needs to do this?” Castiel asked, again taking care to leave his voice emotionless. Cain seemed sincere, and yet this was the man who had killed his own brother. One whom, when Castiel was much younger, he would have sworn Cain had loved with all his being. It was wise to be cautious.

“He’s the only one who can use the First Blade. You do know what that is, don’t you?”

“I am vaguely aware.”

“Find it, and then find me. And don’t worry about Winchester. I won’t put up much of a fight.”

****************

Sam glared at his computer.

“Well, apparently this First Blade thing was sold five times after being found at the bottom of the ocean. Which took me hours to find out, if you care. And the last guy who bought it went by Magnus. I’ve looked into all of his dealings and this guy’s a ghost. No address. Never been seen in person. I don’t know what you expect me to do with this.

“I know who he is,” Dean said excitedly. Castiel was of the opinion that Dean was much too happy at the prospect of murdering someone, but decided against mentioning it. It had been a long time since Dean had gotten to properly hunt and Cas was well aware that the mark got hungry. “When I was just starting to get into training for the Men of Letters as a kid, there were all these stories about Magnus. Guy was a Man of Letters and got kicked out in the fifties, but he ended up collecting a bunch of supernatural shit.”

“Do you know where he is?” Claire asked, unimpressed. Dean scowled at her. “Still useless.”

“I don’t see you helping.”

“I helped with the research.”

“Yeah, research that would be meaningless if I didn’t know who Magnus was.”

“Do you two do anything but fight?” Castiel muttered. Jesse shook his head from behind Claire’s head, causing Cas to smile a little. Claire turned around and Jesse stopped immediately. She gave him a challenging look and he cleared his throat before deciding to find a subject change immediately.

“We could just go back to that place in Kansas. They might know something,” Jesse suggested. Cas could see Dean tense from across the room.

“I don’t think that would be wise,” Castiel said. The look Dean gave him was too grateful. It was easy to fall back into a pattern of watching Dean and trying to help him. It was easy to forget the time he hadn’t spent talking to him. And that was exactly why Castiel had gone in the first place. Because looking out for Dean shouldn’t be so ingrained in him that he often did it without thinking.

“We need to talk to someone from the Men of Letters,” Sam pointed out. Probably soulless right now then. The other Sam was much more sensitive to delicate issues.

“We could ask Bobby,” Jesse said, quietly. “He used to be one.”

“Yeah, like a million years ago,” Dean said. “And we can’t go to Bobby. He’d call Gabriel.”

“Not if we told him the stakes,” Jesse said. He knew a lot of the reason he wanted to do this was just because he wanted to see Bobby again, but he still knew it was a good plan. Bobby would tell them what they needed to know without expecting anything in return. He had his finger on the pulse of the hunting community and friends within the Men of Letters and the Judah Initiative. He was their best bet for up to date and relevant information.

“He’s not wrong,” Castiel said. “And with the proper precautions, it could be possible.”

“Well that’s settled then. To Bobby’s,” said Jesse.

******************

Rufus was glaring at the reports of increasing fatalities over the past week of possessed Men of Letters when he heard his cell ringing.

“Bobby. Why you calling so early?”

“Why are you up?”

“Troubling times, man. Something’s out there right now, and it ain’t looking good.”

Rufus heard Bobby sigh. He had an idea of the deaths then.

“Look, Rufus, I got to ask you a favor. I need someone who knows where Magnus is.”

“You don’t want to fool with bastard.”

“No, I don’t, but I got a couple of idjits here that do. And it might help with your troubling times.”

“I can’t leave. John’ll be suspicious,” Rufus said. He was curious, but he knew why Bobby was being reticent. Likely it was something that if overheard could wind up with one or both of them dead. “Maybe I can send someone.”

“Someone who knows.”

“I’ll tell them. Magnus ain’t exactly hard to find. That much magic is a fucking beacon, and he made a mansion invisible. Besides, Eileen’s a natural at spell work.”

“She discreet?”

“Well, considering that John won’t give her the time o’ day, yeah, she’ll do what I say within reason. So if you want her to keep quiet, I’ll tell her.”

“Thanks, Rufus. I owe you one.”

“You owe me a bottle is what you owe me.”

“Shut up,” Bobby said as a farewell. Rufus glanced at his report again and decided not to consult John about sending Eileen out into the field. When he told her, she seemed surprised but took it to heart not to mention the mission to John before she was gone. Rufus was surprised when she took Garth with her, but when John asked, he told his boss that he had sent them both out. Of course John was angry, but then again since he’d seen his son with black eyes, everything made John angry, so it’s not like anything had really changed from how it already was.

*******************

Eileen hadn’t meant to reveal her plan to Garth. Dorothy hadn’t even noticed she’d been preparing to leave, but it made sense that Garth did. They were much closer with each other than either was with her, and Garth was more observant than most gave him credit for. Eileen knew this, but it was easy to underestimate her friend. He had a way of stumbling into every success that made it seem like every one of his accomplishments was the result of luck and good timing.

So when Garth had asked Eileen where she was going, she’d told him and offered to take him with her as long as he kept to the rules Rufus had set forth. Garth had agreed without hesitation, and Eileen had actually been happy to have the company. She let Garth drive so she could continue to speak with him during the journey, and had to admit the drive to Sioux Falls was much more pleasant when someone else was in the car. Eileen would be the first to admit that she preferred to work alone, but if she had to work with someone else, Garth wasn’t the worst she could do. He was confident in himself, despite often making mistakes. And he was funny, and their senses of humor worked incredibly well together in conversation.

When they finally got to Bobby’s home, Eileen watched in amusement as Garth became more agitated and animated, signing to her how excited he was to meet Bobby. He was something of a legend among Men of Letters recruits because of the epic fuck you he had delivered to the Men of Letters when he had finished all of the requirements to become a full member and right before he was supposed to be inducted had abandoned his training in favor of carving out a place for himself in the hunting community. That he held the grudging respect of both the Men of Letters and the hunting community despite this made him a very unusual person, that much Eileen would admit, though she hardly saw a reason to completely lose her cool like Garth was doing.

When Eileen knocked, Bobby didn’t answer the door. Instead, it was the man who had visited the bunker with the angel and the demon that was John Winchester’s son. Eileen felt that same tug at the center of her back and eyed him suspiciously without saying anything. Luckily Garth was there too, and he obviously didn’t get the same strange feeling as she did when she was around Sam. If she had to describe it, she’d say when she looked at him it was like someone walking over her grave.

“Can we come in? We’re here to see Bobby.”

Sam wordlessly stepped aside. Eileen stepped past him making sure he was never outside of her line of sight. She didn’t trust that she somehow knew him and knew him well. Garth seemed to pick up on her unease and subtly placed himself between her and Sam, for which she was grateful. Sam just looked mostly confused.

“Great, the cavalry are here.”

Eileen hadn’t heard what was said, but picked up Garth’s signs quickly so she knew what to say when faced with the demon that was John Winchester’s son.

“We’re here to help end whatever’s killing Men and Women of Letters,” said Eileen.

“So you know where Magnus is?” asked Dean. Eileen nodded. “Alright. Let’s go.”

******************

The plan was Garth would stay outside with Claire and Jesse in case anything went wrong. Eileen, Sam, Dean, and Castiel were going to ask entrance into Magnus’ home under the pretense that the Men of Letters were interested in his recent activities. Eileen had already composed the spell that would hopefully reveal the door of Cuthbert Sinclair’s mansion and was then repeating it, drawing on her natural ability to improvise and magical strength. It took about five minutes before the door appeared.

“Nice work,” Dean mouthed at her, the other two men nodding in agreement. Eileen tried to hide her smirk as she knocked on the door. It was nice to be appreciated for once instead of ignored and told to do inventory again.

“Magnus, we are here from the Men of Letters. We only want to talk, and ask that you let us do so in good faith,” Eileen said choosing her words carefully.

The door opened without anyone answering, which put the four of them on guard as they entered the building. As soon as they did, two vampires attacked, though they were stopped in their tracks by Cas and Eileen beheading them within a minute of their first appearance. This was decidedly more aggressive than they had been hoping.

“Hello, hello. Sorry for that, I was just curious how Men of Letters training was holding up now a days. Seems as though you’re better prepared for fighting monsters than they were in my day,” said a man sitting in a leather chair. “And just who are all of you?”

“Eileen Leahy,” Eileen said. No one else made any move to introduce themselves, since they weren’t actually Men of Letters and didn’t know the names of anyone who was.

“I knew your grandfather,” he said with a smile. “That was some impressive spell work. You really have a talent for cadence.”

“Thank you,” Eileen said uneasily. She didn’t like the almost predatory way the man scanned each of them. She had the feeling too that he knew more than he let on as his focus fell to Castiel several times, his lips curling in what he likely thought was a friendly smile.

“So why are you here?” he asked.

“We’re looking for a blade. The First Blade,” Eileen said carefully. Magnus actually looked surprised at that, though the way his expression changed and he suddenly looked very interested in Dean had Eileen wishing she hadn’t been so straightforward.

“Is that so?” he said softly. Eileen reacted without thinking beginning to chant a spell that would knock him unconscious. Unfortunately he was faster than her and she instantly found her mouth what felt like glued shut. Magnus had the nerve to tsk at her, and if she hadn’t found herself immobilized she would have stabbed him.

“You’re good, but I’m better. They don’t tell anyone that, back at headquarters I’m sure. They call me a madman, but they never tell anyone that I’m a genius.”

Dean lunged forward but felt himself stop as though hitting a wall. He looked up and there was a devil’s trap above that had definitely not been there a second before. Cas and Sam both tried to rush the man, but Magnus was quick to blow on a green powder that made Sam disappear, and Cas only managed to hit him once before the man had placed a similar spell to Eileen’s on him.

“You really think I wouldn’t recognize an angel when I saw one?” Magnus asked Castiel. He looked mildly annoyed at having been punched, and slid the knife Cas had materialized from the angel’s hand, loosening his grip with muttered incantations. Then, he sliced one of Castiel’s cheeks, watching with interest as his grace shone through. “Your kind have been very present these past ten years. I started picking up the communications on my radio. It only takes the right frequency. And if what I’ve been hearing is true, that would make you Castiel.”

“Look, whatever you think you know, that’s not why we’re here. We need the First Blade to kill Cain. If we don’t do that, Lucifer might get out and the end begins. That shit has got to matter to you, even if you think we’re bad news.”

Dean didn’t much care whether or not most of the human race suffered, though he knew that Lucifer getting out would definitely negatively affect those he actually did care about, so he was sincere in his reasoning. More than that, he had a feeling Magnus cared a great deal for himself at least and would not be keen to die in an apocalypse. Unfortunately, he realized he had misjudged the situation when Magnus answered him.

“With the Mark of Cain and the First Blade together, I’m not sure if even the devil himself is a match for me. See, I collect things. Monsters. Not people usually, but I might make an exception for the young lady. Natural, undertrained talent like that, she would make an excellent apprentice. But with you, I could do anything I wanted. Control anything I wanted to.”

“Yeah, good luck with that. Because I’m not doing shit for you.”

“With a little convincing, I think you’ll find you will.”

********************

Sam is slammed hard into the ground outside of where the entrance to Magnus’ mansion was. The door Eileen had made appear was gone now, and Sam was instantly very worried about the people that had been left inside. He hadn’t known any of them very long, though the other version of himself had, but he had already grown to quite like Dean and Castiel, and even if Eileen made him feel uncomfortable, she hardly deserved whatever the twisted man inside had planned for them.

Garth was at his side instantly.

“Where’s Eileen?” he asked, obviously worried about his friend. “Where’s the other guys?”

“It went wrong,” was all Sam could say to explain. “I don’t know how, he just flipped out as soon as we mentioned the First Blade.”

“Is Eileen…?”

“I don’t know.”

Claire and Jesse were also outside the car now and running up to meet them.

“What’s happening?” asked Claire. Sam shook his head, because he didn’t know what was happening, he just knew that they needed to get back in the mansion.

*******************

It was odd, being under someone else’s influence, Dean thought dimly. If he had to label the feeling, it was like being drunk past function, and having your body still moving as though you were stone cold sober.

“All will gone,” Magnus said, satisfied with his work. Dean felt more than saw the Devil’s trap from above him disappear. “I’ll be back for the young lady later. This has all been a bit more magic than I was planning on performing today. Dean, why don’t you help me bring your friend some place he’ll be more comfortable?”

His limbs moved without him directing them, his entire body eager to do whatever it was Magnus asked of him. As soon as he had a grip on Cas, Magnus released the spell that had immobilized him and Cas began to struggle against Dean’s grip. Unfortunately, whatever warding Magnus had around his home was enough that Castiel wasn’t strong enough to pull away, and was forcibly pushed into another room by Dean. Magnus shut and locked the door behind him before releasing all but Eileen Leahy’s tongue so he could conserve energy for maintaining the spell over Dean.

“I’ve never seen an angel in person before,” Magnus said, watching dispassionately as the angel was forced into several bindings he had made should the occasion to collect an angel ever arise. His arms were spread out wide while his feet were firmly tied to the floor, leaving the angel in a position that resembled the Christian cross closely enough to be appropriately blasphemous. “I have to say this is rather exciting. Two firsts in my collection in one day!”

“I am not an object,” Castiel spat at the man, trying to twist out of the bonds that held him. The warding around it was ingenious, and innovative in a way even the tattoos Castiel frequently thought up weren’t. The man before him had intellect, that much was obvious, and yet there was something so twisted in his psyche that Castiel wasn’t sure even reason would sway him. That being the case, he was determined to use his energy speaking to someone that might actually listen to him, even if he was brainwashed. “Dean, whatever he’s doing, you need to resist. He can’t keep this up for long periods of time. Fight it before he restrains you.”

Dean didn’t move or give any sign he’d heard Castiel.

“Nice try,” Magnus said, false sympathy on his tongue. “But he actually has to want to rescue you to fight against me. Looks like he’d rather see you like this. He is a demon after all.”

“Dean,” Castiel said again, ignoring Magnus. He kept ignoring him until the man walked a circle around him and he felt a curious hand on his back and quiet muttering. He stopped after a moment, sighing in frustration.

“Didn’t work. Hmm. I don’t suppose you’d manifest your wings on your own, would you?”

Castiel didn’t answer, keeping his chin high and staring Dean down. He kept his body tense even as he noticed the demon wink at him slowly. Castiel wondered what he was waiting for until he realized what Dean was standing next to. The fool had practically given Dean a weapon and thought he wouldn’t make use of it. Overconfidence really was a killer.

“Well, I’ll admit, I’m a little tired to be experimenting with new spells right now,” Magnus said. “I could just try to cut them out of you. It’s a little distasteful, but if you’re going to be difficult.”

He waited for an answer from Castiel. He got nothing. Magnus sighed again and placed the angel blade on a table before taking a silver knife and putting it through Castiel’s upper thigh. Cas jerked at the pain. Whatever wards were holding him had taken away the barrier there usually was between him and his vessel, and spasms the pain caused were making his thigh muscles contract and loosen around the knife. Magnus pulled the knife out again, and Cas felt his breath hiss out through his teeth.

“This would all be a lot less painless if you would just do as I say,” Magnus said, wiping blood from knife with a handkerchief, displeased that he had to actually physically do work to get the angel to cooperate. “You’re going to be here a long time, and it’s better you understand how it’s going to work sooner rather than later.”

Magnus had made the circle back to Castiel’s front by now, and Cas saw Dean silently moving to grasp the blade. Magnus didn’t seem to notice, still surveying Castiel’s body disinterestedly, trying to determine where plunging the knife in would cause the most pain.

As soon as he touched it, Dean froze, his hand shaking visibly. Sparks of red light ran up and down his arm, and the blade seemed to almost merge with his soul. Dean’s eyes flicked black, and instead of feeling reassured, Castiel was suddenly very afraid.

*******************

Garth had done every damn incantation he could think of on the door and nothing was working. He tried changing the wording, improvising around obstacles he could feel the barest edges of as he struggled to get anything to manifest, but he could already tell it was no good. He needed a way inside. Some way to connect him to Eileen or Dean or Cas. Something soul deep.

Thinking about souls brought a memory back from when he had broken the jar that had let out Sam Winchester’s soul. He suddenly remembered the vivid bright balls of light, one of which had passed straight through Eileen’s chest before disappearing. That, coupled with the unsettling feeling Eileen had signed to Garth about when he asked what exactly it was about Sam that was making her act so strangely had light bulbs going off over Garth’s head.

“Sam, I’m sorry about this,” he said genuinely. Before Sam could question exactly what it was that Garth was going to be sorry about, the scrawny guy had knocked him out with a well directed punch to the head. Claire and Jesse stared at him in surprise. “You need to be sleeping for this to work.”

“What are you doing?” Claire asked, ready to fight Garth if he meant Sam any harm.

“We need a connection to the inside. As near as I can tell, Sam’s soul got a piece of Eileen way back when, and now I’m trying to use that to our advantage. And I don’t want to be rude at all, but I need to focus right now so I would appreciate a bit of silence, if you’d be obliged.”

Garth rolled Sam’s body over and placed a hand on the center of his back and began to chant a spell. A light glow formed around his hand, and Garth stopped a few times before starting again. At long last Garth grinned and the next moment, all three of them were in a well furnished room surrounded by weapons and cages and strange objects. Eileen was doing her best to ram down a door, and only stopped when Garth had launched himself at her so he could hug her. She hugged him back for a moment reassuringly before pushing him away and desperately signing at him. He nodded at her and then yelled at Jesse and Claire to help with the door. They exchanged a glance and Claire nodded.

“Move out of the way,” Jesse said to Eileen and Garth, pulling off the bracelets he always wore and handing them over to Claire.

*****************

Magnus’ head hit the ground with a dull thud. Vicious joy ripped a grin onto Dean’s face as he plunged the First Blade into his body again and again. It had felt good to kill before, but now, it was a god damn high. Maybe he shouldn’t have given Cas such a hard time about his drug use, he thought dimly. Higher thought was quickly becoming difficult, and a kind of primal joy at destruction was overtaking him, body and soul.

Castiel watched Dean as he pummeled Magnus’ body beyond recognition, watching as the scarred demonic face Dean usually had in his true form gave way to complete and utter darkness. His eyes weren’t just black, they were devoid of light. Whatever the First Blade had done to him, whatever power it held, Dean was a changed man.

“He’s dead,” Castiel said pointedly, when Dean paused for a moment, looking for where to strike next. He realized he shouldn’t have said anything when Dean looked up and really saw Cas again. The haze he had been in hadn’t allowed him to actively remember who else was in the room, but now that he did anger filled every inch of him.

“You think you can leave me here?” he said, not even thinking about his words. Hardly knowing why they left his mouth. “You think you can leave me locked away and alone like this?”

Castiel’s expression twisted into desperate confusion as he tried to figure out what the hell Dean was talking about.

“I don’t understand what you’re-”

Dean cut him off with a blow to his face. Cas felt his jaw break and the fractured bones tear through his skin. The next one was to his stomach, and Cas would have curled up if he’d been allowed, but because of how he was restrained all he could do was watch Dean kneed the thigh Cas had been stabbed in hard enough to break his femur. That got a scream, which if anything only seemed to make Dean want to hit harder.

“Dean I can’t fight back like this,” Cas said, slurring slightly because of the pain and broken jaw. “You have to stop. You need to stop.”

But it was like Dean couldn’t hear him. It was as though every little piece of humanity he had somehow managed to hang onto through his centuries in hell had fled all at once. It was as though he were possessed. But demons couldn’t be possessed, that just wasn’t how it worked.

The second hit to his face hurt even worse than the first. And Dean just kept hitting. It was every worst fear Castiel had had come to life, and he flinched from his own internal voice mockingly telling himself “I told you so”. He tried his best despite the warding to heal some of his injuries, but his body was slowly giving out. In order for an angel to survive, their vessels needed to retain a certain amount of wholeness. It was why when a body was vaporized, the angel was destroyed with it. If Dean didn’t stop, it was very likely that eventually Cas would die. And even if he came back, Castiel already knew neither he nor Dean would recover from this. He wouldn’t be surprised if Dean stayed lost to this madness for the rest of his days if he killed Castiel now. He always had defended liking being a demon, and Castiel had eventually realized that maybe the reason Dean was so certain that being a demon was better than being human was because he couldn’t stand to feel pain. What was one more level of detachment if it spared him from remembering actions he would later regret?

“You need to stop,” Castiel tried again. His words hardly sounded like words anymore, more like garbled mush forced through a drain disposal. “Dean, please. I know you can fight it. I believe in you. I’m sorry I left you alone. Just don’t do this. I love you, don’t make me go through this, god damn it.”

Dean’s eyes flickered back to green just as the doors to the room they were locked in burst open. Dean dropped the First Blade, staring at it for a second before he once again caught sight of Cas. Caught sight of the bloody mess that had once been Cas.

“What the fuck did you do?” yelled Claire, pushing Dean roughly out of the way so she could start letting Cas out of the bindings. Her voice sounded so distant. None of it felt real. “Cas, come on, talk to me. Cas!” Cas was deathly silent and Dean could hear the panic starting to work its way into Claire’s voice. “Jesse, give me a fucking hand here!”

Dean watched without saying a word as Claire finished undoing the knots and she and Jesse lowered Cas to the floor. The thought that he might be dead, that Dean might have killed him had Dean sitting down with a thud against the opposite wall, praying with all his might for Castiel to keep breathing. He watched as Jesse gently nudged Claire aside and put his hands on Cas. There was some improvement, but it was obvious that Jesse was inexperienced with healing injuries and it wasn’t long until Eileen had taken his hand and begun to work a spell over Castiel. It was twenty minutes before Dean could see him breathing again. It was thirty before Cas’ eyes opened, and as soon as they did, Dean wrapped the First Blade in a cloth so he wasn’t touching it and left as swiftly as he could, running into the room with the green powder Magnus had used to banish Sam and repeating the spell he’d heard. He needed to find Cain, kill him, and then get rid of the blade before it made him fuck everything up even more than it already had. He found Sam unconscious as soon as he was transported out, and on impulse took his brother with him else where so they could figure out some way to contact Cain.

******************

When Cas woke up, he was surprised that the majority of his injuries had been healed enough that he could actually move somewhat. He blinked in surprise before registering that Jesse and Eileen were working over him, using spells to fix his vessel as best as they could. Claire was on the other side of him, looking upset. When she noticed that his eyes were open her face visibly relaxed.

“Help me get outside,” Cas muttered, removing Jesse’s hands from his chest. It fucking hurt to sit up, but he still knew they’d done a pretty good job so far healing him up, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to sit up at all. He couldn’t stop a small groan of pain when Claire hugged him tightly before letting go with a muttered sorry. Eileen and Garth helped him to his feet and Eileen showed them how to use the green powder to get out. As soon as he was free from the warding, Cas felt his grace rushing to try to fix the damage and the sharp pain all faded to a dull ache.

“Where’s Dean?” he asked the others. Claire’s anger was immediate.

“Who cares,” she said. “Did you see what he did to you?”

“He wasn’t himself. The mark-”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“Claire, it wasn’t his fault.”

“Then whose was it? Yours? You were tied up and unconscious, exactly what the fuck would have made it okay for him to beat you until… until…”

“He stopped. He didn’t have to stop.”

Claire stared at him, open shock on her face. Because how could Cas not see it, how fucked up what he had just said was? If Jesse had ever done to her what Dean had just done, no matter the excuse, Cas would never let her speak to him again. Hell, Cas would probably kill Jesse himself.

“It was like he was possessed,” Castiel said, more thinking out loud than talking to her anymore. “It was like someone else was there. But what? It can’t have been Cain, the words still wouldn’t have made sense.”

While this had been going on, Eileen and Garth had been having a signed conversation about what had happened while they were separated. Garth explained what he had figured out in order to break through Magnus’ magical protection to the other side. The revelation that a piece of her soul was missing was not reassuring.

“Castiel,” she said, ending the conversation between Claire and Cas. “Is it possible for Sam’s soul to have taken a piece of mine? Garth seems convinced that is what’s happened.”

“No,” Castiel said, while beginning to test his limbs and ignoring Claire’s concerned glare. “Why would you think that?”

“Sam’s soul flew right through her chest when it got out,” Garth explained. Castiel nodded distractedly.

“It hasn’t taken a piece. Souls cannot be destroyed and split. I suspect what happened was more of a… copy and paste situation, to put it colloquially.”

“What?”

“Souls are a result both of inherent nature and learned behavior,” Castiel explained. “Sam’s didn’t have the second part, so I suspect it copied some of the lessons you had learned. It makes sense, actually. I had been wondering why exactly his second personality was able to catch up to the first so quickly. It seems he has you to thank for that. Probably best we don’t tell him.”

“Will this have any negative effects?” Eileen asked, relieved she finally had an explanation for the odd feeling she had when she was around Sam.

“No, nothing negative. If you were to spend time with each other, you’d probably be able to communicate very effectively, and quickly come to understanding with each other, but that is the extent of what it means.”

Castiel decided it wasn’t necessary to mention that frequently strong protective urges developed out of touching someone else’s soul and exchanging information, since it extended one’s sense of self and natural self preservation instincts were likewise extended. She wouldn’t be working with Sam as far as he knew again in the future and Castiel would rather not explain how he knew so much about what happened when you touched a soul. After a standard goodbye from both Eileen and Garth, the latter of which seemed to think standard goodbyes included hugs, the two of them left in the car they had driven there.

“So where are we going now?” asked Jesse. Claire was keeping silent, still obviously angry at Castiel.

“We need to find Sam and Dean.”

“No, what we need to do is stay low to the ground and make sure you heal before we go chasing the demon who nearly killed you.”

Cas could see a lot of the anger Claire was feeling was out of a sense of betrayal, because she had trusted Dean. She often was able to open up to him more than she was to Cas, and the two constantly bickered as a form of affection more than antagonism. She couldn’t see it objectively, she didn’t know what Cas knew, but he had no idea how to explain to her what he had seen. That for a moment Dean had disappeared completely, that he had gone into a trance. Claire wasn’t ready to listen to that right now.

“We need to find them. We have to make sure someone takes the First Blade from Dean after killing Cain. He won’t want to give it up.”

“How can you act like nothing just happened? How can you stand there like this is fucking normal? Cas, it’s not okay for that fucker to hit you.”

“I know,” Cas snapped at last. “I am perfectly aware that none of this is healthy, and never has been. But we live in extraordinary circumstances and when being forced to do something against your will, I think a little forgiveness on my part isn’t exactly out of left field. And I know it was against his will because he stopped. So while I appreciate the concern, I don’t need it. I’m fine.”

“You’re fine? Yeah, I can see how-”

“Claire,” Jesse said, interrupting her in the quiet way he had. She spun around as though to start arguing with him. “We need to find them. We can talk about the rest later. Cas was right that Dean won’t want to give up the weapon. I could feel the connection when we were in the room. And if it matters, he didn’t leave until he saw that Cas was okay.”

“Fine,” Claire said to the first part, ignoring the rest of what Jesse had said. “Let’s go find them then.”

*******************

Finding Cain wasn’t difficult with Sam to help him. It was just a shame he had to deal with the personality that actually gave a shit about him, because he kept asking if Dean was okay. And every time he asked, Dean felt another spike of anger threatening to take him over. It was the image of Cas’ mangled body that kept him from falling off the edge back into whatever darkness had swallowed him up.

Dean showed up prepared for a fight and was surprised when Cain regarded him coolly and said entirely serious:

“Would you like to eat lunch first?”

Dean blinked. Then shrugged and nodded a little warily, disturbed by Cain’s total lack of reaction. Dude was seriously zen for having a matching mark on his arm. When Dean was sat across a table from Cain, he leaned back in his chair and ignored his burger and fries while staring Cain down.

“You have questions,” Cain prompted. “I may have answers.”

“Why me?” Dean asked. It wasn’t the one he wanted to ask, but it was the first question that came to mind. “Why pass this on to me? I’m not exactly Mother freaking Theresa. And you’re pretty much a pacifist.”

Cain nodded and seemed to seriously consider the question before answering.

“Three reasons. Three people, the ones you didn’t torture in hell.”

Dean laughed.

“Three against tens of thousands? Dude I think you’re meter’s skewed.”

“Lisa Braeden was the first. She sold her soul to bring her son back after he was kidnapped and killed by a monster. You refused to make a single cut on her soul. Alistair must have hurt you something awful for that.”

“Yeah, so what?”

“It was a long time before you disobeyed Alistair again after that. Must have been hundreds of years in hell. You were ruthless. You took to torture so well you became Alistair’s very favorite. And then there was Bela Talbot.”

“She didn’t… she didn’t deserve to be down there. She did what she had to do.”

“But you didn’t do what you had to do. Not right then.”

But there were so many more after that. So many sob stories he ignored without thought. So many people that had deserved better, but he knew then. He knew the way the world worked, and he knew it would be easier for them when they realized the same. You give pain and you take pain. It had all been so clear when he had first gotten out. It hadn’t felt wrong in so long, and why the hell would it feel wrong now?

“Fine, I let a few people go. Fat lot of good it did them. Someone else did exactly what I might have done. I didn’t save them. I didn’t do anything for them.”

“And last of all there was Layla Rourke. The woman with terminal cancer who had been given a second chance at the cost of someone else’s life without her knowledge, and traded it away- traded her very soul away- to make it right. I heard tales, Dean, at how you sobbed at the sight of her. You fought tooth and nail to keep her safe before Alistair got you under control again. And that’s how I knew no matter what horrors you were put through, you would always find the light. That’s how I knew you were worthy of the mark.”

“Look, man… I can’t hack it. Whatever kind of control you have, I just don’t. If you knew what I’d done, you’d change you’re mind. If you had any idea…”

“I have practice. A long time ago, I was just as bloodthirsty as you are now. Until I met someone who changed that for me,” Cain said, his eyes taking on a far away look. “Her name was Colette. She forgave me. She loved me unconditionally.”

I can forgive you, Dean remembered Cas saying and shook his head, because this was bullshit. It was all bullshit.

“Yeah, and what happened to her?” Dean asked. He still hadn’t eaten a single bite. He didn’t need to eat, but he usually did anyway. Somehow food had never looked more unappetizing.

“There were Knights of Hell. More like you.”

“Yeah, the archangels took them out.”

“No, I took them out. They took credit and I was happy to let them,” Cain corrected. “I killed each and every last one. And the final Knight was my favorite, Abaddon. And she was possessing my poor Colette. She was breaking her from the inside out. So I killed Abaddon and tried to save Colette, but it was too late.”

His voice went uncharacteristically soft towards the end. Mournful.

“She made me promise I’d stop. And I kept that promise, until I couldn’t anymore. So I need you to kill me, and I need you to bear the mark in my stead.”

“You’ll be gone forever,” Dean pointed out, because he didn’t want this responsibility. He didn’t want Cain’s grief, or this tight feeling in his chest that he had done something so very wrong to Cas. He just wanted it all to go away. Wanted instead the fucking thrill of breaking bones and tearing skin, carving designs into skin to the sound of screaming. It felt like he was being torn in half. “I can’t do this.”

“I let you out of your hell,” Cain said, voice authoritative, demanding. “Let me out of mine. I still have hope that God will forgive me, that I might live in the fields of the lord with my beloved. Give me that chance. You owe me that much.”

Killing Cain was easy. One swing and the demon was dead, head rolling across the floor, eyes closed and a soft smile on his face. Dean barely registered the fact that somehow Cas had found him, had carefully pried the First Blade from his hands. He barely heard Claire’s snide remarks or Sam asking him if he was okay, again and again. He just knew he needed to get as far away from everyone as possible. And so that’s what he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains a reverse crypt scene, and that does mean Cas gets pretty badly hurt by Dean. Also, the way each character reacts is how I'm trying to write them in character. This is fucked up team free will, not how to have healthy self respect and relationships team free will. Also, opinions expressed within don't necessarily reflect my own. Thought I'd clarify.


	19. Guess Who's Back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I recently went on vacation, but now I'm back and have managed to write another chapter. Sorry it took so long, but hopefully you enjoy reading anyway.

Look, try to imagine you’ve spent half your life terrified out of your mind that anyone you meet might be a demon or an angel, that every kind stranger might actually be a monster in disguise. Imagine you’ve seen your closest family killed in front of you and realized that as a vessel- a limited commodity needed for an ever-looming angelic war- going to grandma’s probably wasn’t going to cut it to keep you safe. Imagine you spent years on the streets, wandering from place to place hoping against hope that you could bring the one member of your family that still cares about you back. Imagine that even that hope is taken from you and you’re traveling around with the very beings you feared for so long, because, hey, it’s better than nothing. Got a good picture?

It wasn’t a small wonder that Claire Novak hadn’t ever taken much of an interest in sex for the first eighteen years of her life.

The thing was that with Dean in the wind, Castiel acting quieter and more distant, and demon activity ramping up to an all time high, Claire shouldn’t be taking an interest in sex now. The problem of course being that the source of her sexual awakening was always within ten feet of her, and once she started becoming aware of the fact that yes, she really did want Jesse that way in addition to every other way she wanted him, it started to get very hard to ignore.

Demon activity had gone through the roof recently. All angels that had aligned themselves or shown sympathy with Samandriel were being systematically annihilated, and every rogue angel Cas knew of had gone into hiding and was unreachable, save Balthazar, who knew their hunting patterns well enough to catch them sometimes and deliver news. Sometimes it worried Claire how easy it was to forget that the man who appeared and gave every sign of being their ally was wearing someone else’s face. That he’d had to say yes in order for Balthazar to have taken him over didn’t really lessen the horror of it for Claire, especially when she thought of what her father must have gone through when he made the same decision.

Of course, this was where it all became tangled within her brain. Because consent was power, that much she had figured out, with a little help from Cas’ explanations along the way. A demon could take a human body over, but they wore it out. There were certain limitations they were confined to, and although they had full control over the body in every case except those of the most strong willed, they had no access to the soul. But it was a little different with angels, because when you invite them in, you invite them into all of you. And angels didn’t care for reservations or nuances, because that initial yes was all they needed and if they were doing the work of God, surely any deals they broke were justified.

Before he’d left that final time, before Claire’s world had been turned upside down, Cas had let Jimmy speak to her. Say his goodbyes. And Claire had asked what it was like. She still remembered the way his eyes had gone dead, the way he had said it was like being strapped to a comet. It was like will slipping through your fingers like sand and days disappearing like seconds. And she had only been eight years old, but Jimmy had begged her to stay hidden, to run, so that when the war that was coming heated up, no angel could find her.

Then again, Claire Novak wasn’t the kind of person who could run for long. She liked to face a problem head on. Whether that was tracking down the angel that had possessed her father, hunting, or navigating the complex waters of her own mind, Claire wasn’t one to back down. And when she really got down to it, she could admit her fear of ‘going all the way’ came down to terminology and innuendo. Claire even thinks she remembered once or twice when Dean had lovingly referred to vessels as angel condoms, a term Cas hadn’t taken kindly to. Knowing that the source of her fear was unfounded didn’t do anything to uproot it however.

Of course the other confusing part of it all was the incredible amount of trust she had in Jesse. Of everyone she had ever met he was the only one that had never let her down, or sold her out. And it didn’t hurt that the guy was easy on the eyes and looked at her like she was the one that thought of sliced bread.

As for the lust part of the equation, Claire figured there was only so many times you could fight back to back with your incredibly attractive boyfriend without wanting, despite certain reservations, to tear his clothes off. And it wasn’t like that hadn’t been reflected in their relationship too, considering they had both passed the oral section of sexual experience after a few weeks of being left in motel rooms with extended time with each other. Sam had taken to spending more time at the library instead of in the motel rooms. Claire had a vague idea that in between scouting out demon activity, Sam was trying to figure out where Dean was, but she never asked him about it.

She tried not to think about Dean actually. Because every time she did, she remembered seeing Cas’ face beaten and bloodied and then she had to find some way to work out the blinding rage that filled her. Beheading vampires did that pretty well. Too bad vamp hunts had gotten few and far between, what with them being up to their ears in black eyes. Fortunately, stabbing was fine for working out aggression too.

In any case, what had been building in the vacuum of actual extended interaction with anyone but Jesse, the adrenaline inducing results of fighting demons on a regular basis, and Claire’s continued and mutually returned love was that want had started to really kick fear’s ass.

When Claire had waded through the extent of her thoughts she had decided it was time to have a talk with Jesse. He had come to her about progressing what they did together in smaller steps after they had both decided that skipping straight to sex was not for them. He had always been good about making sure that Claire understood there wasn’t expectation behind asking if she would do certain things, and Claire had tried to project the same attitude when she told Jesse that she thought she was truly ready to have sex at this point, and if he was too, maybe they could get on that some time.

It was about a week before they got around to it, but Claire was glad because that was more than enough time for her to work through her own hang ups several times over. So when they agreed to try, for the first time it wasn’t fear that rose up. There were nerves, hope, and a ridiculous amount of lust and love, but fear didn’t enter into the equation. Besides, it was Jesse, who rambled when he told stories, and knew seven languages, and complained when Claire made snarky comments through a movie but always laughed anyway. Sure he could also vaporize her with a thought, but Claire was more than aware that the average human had the ability to kill her if they really wanted to. Jesse never would.

And realizing the depths of her trust for Jesse felt like falling in love all over again, as cheesy as that sounded. Out of all the horror, out of all of the loss, Jesse was the one shining example in Claire’s life that every once in a while, good things still happened.

*******************

Meg was a demon on a mission, and she had done everything she could think of possible to accomplish that. It was her that had gained sympathetic ears among the heavenly host, traditionalists that were willing to ignore the black eyes for an opportunity to spring Lucifer and jump start the Apocalypse again. It was her that had managed to fight her way back from stunning losses against Crowley and the spineless cowards who had turned tail the minute it looked like the self crowned King of Hell might win. And it was Meg who had come up with and shared a reasonable plan of action to break open the Cage for good.

The problem was angels were dicks.

“And how exactly to you plan on getting Dean Winchester to cooperate with us?” asked Azrael, one of the big guy’s upper commanders. Meg found herself grimacing at the thought that despite everything she had done she wasn’t worth a visit from Raphael in person. Then again, he was trying to keep his involvement on the down low.

“I don’t know, offer him a pony? Do I have to think of everything?”

“Apologies,” the angel said, not sounding the least bit sorry. “It’s just the demon hasn’t exactly shown himself to be an ally to us in the past. In fact, he committed one of the most horrific acts of violence against two of our brethren in living memory. And we have long memories.”

“Oh, so you can dish it out but you can’t take it?” Meg said back, rolling her eyes and dismissing the righteous anger in the angel’s eyes. “What do you think they do to us down under? At least your buddies were allowed to die.”

“You will not speak of them that way,” Azrael said, conspicuously dropping his knife into his hand. In Lucifer’s name, did all angels have to be so fucking reactive?

“Look, I’m not here to talk about whether or not Dean’s antics upset you tree toppers. I’m here for one reason, and that is to make sure Lucifer gets out of his cage in a timely manner. Now, what I’m offering is a way to do that. So maybe you guy’s should pull your weight for once and get on it.”

“I could skin you, vile creature.”

“Been there, done that. Not that I don’t appreciate the offer. Really gets me going, if you get what I mean,” Meg said, arms crossed and with a purposely salacious grin on her face to get a rise out of the asshat she was forced to deal with.

“I would never stoop so low as to-“

“Peace, brother,” said Raphael, who had appeared behind him. She surveyed Meg distastefully but made no comment against the demon. “We do not insult our allies, no matter how they may offend us.”

At least not to their face, Meg added in her head.

“So, you heard, then? If we can get Winchester to house another soul bomb and aim it at the spot Lilith was supposed to die, there’s a hell of a shot Lucifer will walk free.”

“I admit your plan is intriguing.”

“So…?”

Raphael continued to think in silence. Good thing Meg had gotten good at waiting. She wasn’t patient, but she also wasn’t suicidal and she knew when to keep her mouth shut. When an asshole archangel was standing within smiting distance included.

“We will need to draw him in,” Raphael said, voice slow and deliberate. “Azrael, track down Balthazar. Make sure he’s brought in alive. He always seems to know where Castiel is.”

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Meg asked, eyebrows raised. “Clamps and Feathers aren’t a thing anymore. Looks like Dean made like a dead beat dad and fucked right off.”

“I am aware of that development,” Raphael said. She sounded impatient. Meg’s self preservation skills were starting to kick in a little. But she didn’t need to do anything just yet. “I’m also aware that whenever Castiel seems to be in trouble, the demon makes an appearance.”

“Well, I for one think Clarence has played the damsel in distress a few too many times in his sad little narrative,” Meg said, keeping her eyes out for any sudden outbursts from the archangel in front of her. “Besides, Lucifer wants him intact when he gets out.”

“I’m not sure which I find more amusing, the fact that you think I would believe the words you speak are from my brother or that you think I care what Lucifer wants. He abandoned us, and he will pay the price. The only common goal we share is releasing him from the Cage. Our arrangement is a matter of convenience and the moment you stop being useful to me, I will annihilate you like the insect you are.”

Raphael’s eyes had started to glow and Meg was sure that now was definitely the time to make an exit. The only problem was Raphael picking up on her thoughts and burning a sigil into the walls to prevent her from leaving. She eyed it warily, pulling out an angel blade she knew would be useless.

“You still need me,” she said quietly. “I understand a lot more than you all do, because unlike you, I’ve actually bothered to do my research. Kidnapping Castiel isn’t going to work. Dean has a habit of getting out of tight spaces, and he will find a way to fuck you over if you don’t negotiate with him.”

“You’re right about one thing,” Raphael said, looking Meg up and down as she considered the demon’s words. “I do still need your information.”

Meg found herself suddenly being repressed in her meat suit, coiled inward until the body she wore collapsed on the ground. The next moment the original owner’s soul was shoved back inside, and as the girl became conscious, Meg started to panic, realizing exactly what they were going to do.

“Azrael, I think you need a new vessel.”

Azrael approached the girl, and Meg tried to reason with her, but Catherine wasn’t exactly keen on listening to the creature that had taken over her body and burned her out. When she heard the creature in front of her was an angel it was all over. She said yes without even asking what her body would be used for.

*****************

It was one of the rare days when both Sam and Castiel had decided to stay with Claire and Jesse in order to plan out their next move regarding the incredible amount of demon activity across the nation. Although they weren’t exactly treated like equals, Claire and Jesse were allowed a say in where they went and opportunities to provide advice if they had any.

Sam wanted to head out west, since that was where the heaviest activity was occurring but Castiel disagreed. He was under the impression that there were some particularly concerning concentrations in the Midwest and it would be best to visit those. Claire wasn’t really able to follow his logic past the fact that whatever position they were in was clearly meant to gain a strategic advantage while the demon activity out West was more random. Sam pointed out that numbers probably meant more than vague positioning, and questioned what could be important enough in the god damn Midwest that demons were trying to stake out the area. They were still arguing back and forth when Cas’ phone rang. He answered it without looking, hoping it would be Dean, despite the fact the demon had sent several messages to Sam telling them to stop looking for him and had otherwise not communicated at all since killing Cain.

“Hello?”

“Clarence,” said a smug sounding voice on the other line.

“Meg. How did you get this number?”

“I have my ways.”

“Wait, why is Meg calling you?” Claire asked. “You know what? Who cares. Can we stab her?”

“I’m on the phone, Claire,” Castiel said, not even trying to hold back his irritation. He returned his attention to the phone. “What exactly is it you want?”

“I happen to have some information as to the location of one Dean Winchester. I thought you might be interested.”

Castiel chose not to answer, instead waiting for Meg to continue.

“Or we could shoot her,” Claire suggested. Cas rolled his eyes at her. “Or let Jesse have at her. I know you don’t want her to die, but he could just mess her up a little bit.”

“I’d rather not,” said Jesse. “Warping reality intentionally isn’t exactly a walk in the park.”

“You’re no fun.”

Castiel ignored the ensuing faux argument because Meg had started speaking again.

“Well? I’m not going to tell you over the phone.”

“And why would that be?”

“I figured we could have a little trade. You give me some information on where Crowley is, and I’ll give you Winchester’s whereabouts. Think you can swing that?”

“Try summoning him. What is the point of this call, Meg?”

“Meet me at the warehouse on the corner of Fourth and Washington. I’d prefer if you didn’t bring your friends, considering some of them can be a little trigger happy.”

Then she hung up. Cas didn’t like it. For one it still disturbed him that she was able to determine their location whenever she wished, since the streets she had mentioned were within a fifteen minute drive of where they were currently staying. More than that, she had just seemed strange. Meg was unsettling at the best of times, but she had seemed odd even for her over the phone. More stilted than her usual casual drawl. Castiel very much got the feeling that it was some kind of trap.

Then again if she really could provide information as to where Dean had gone…

Cas wasn’t scared of Meg, despite the power she held among the demons in hell. In all honesty, there no longer existed any demons that in a straight fight could overpower him, even despite the fact that he was not as strong as most other angels. Gabriel had seen to that at least, having taken out Hell’s heaviest hitters when the Apocalypse fizzled out into nothing. He knew he could be overpowered if he was attacked in great numbers, but that scenario didn’t really fit Meg’s M.O. The only reason he could think that she would contact him would be if she wanted something from him, and even if she didn’t know where Dean was, Castiel was of the opinion it is still best to know what the enemy wants from you so you can hold it against them at a later date, should the occasion arise.

He explained this to Sam, Claire, and Jesse. Claire of course was tight lipped about the entire ordeal, anger at Dean keeping her from contributing any kind of opinion. She and Cas had gotten into several fights over what had happened, and it wasn’t an experience either wished to repeat. Sam was fairly certain it was a trap, but also agreed that if Cas was careful, there wasn’t much Meg could do to him. Jesse disagreed on the necessity of meeting Meg at a location she had picked out. He suggested Cas not go alone, but if Meg was going to make an aggressive move, they all knew it would be easier for Cas to get out if he were alone. In the end, they agreed that Sam would be close by and in contact with Cas, while he went in to see if Meg would have any worthwhile information.

Castiel would never understand villains’ love of warehouses. Certainly he understood the seclusion, the unlikeliness of passersby of stopping to investigate, and the various practical reasons they seemed to be popular among those who would do others harm. It also was just entirely underwhelming in terms of appearing intimidating. In the depths of Hell, when he had gone to rescue Jo Harvelle, he had seen rooms built of bones and blood and sobbing victims that would turn feral at intervals. Human souls enslaved by the demons and forced to use their fellow workers to build a never ending wall that kept nothing out, as the populations were day after day put through frequent hell hound attacks. Castiel had seen spaces in hell that were nothing but silence and endlessness to an extent that even his then vast presence felt insignificant and desperate. He had born witness tot he rack and the horror of chains and changing rooms and the magic of fear and pain that held the entire place together like glue.

Warehouses weren’t all that creepy when given that particular perspective.

Not that Castiel wasn’t careful. He had learned his lesson when it came to holy fire, and was careful to watch where he stepped as he searched for Meg. Eventually he saw her silhouette nearing the far wall of the warehouse. But there was something very wrong, because despite wearing her face, there was another being layered atop Meg that had Castiel freezing.

“Azrael.”

There was an angel on either side of him then. Castiel elbowed one of them in the neck before attempting to take the other one down with a fist to his face. He might have been able to get away if it weren’t for Azrael who had appeared behind him and caught a fist full of his hair so he could put a knife to his neck. Castiel stilled and carefully began tapping his finger so that Sam would get an idea of the situation without Castiel having to verbally explain and give away that he was currently bugged. After tapping out the morse code for “angels” and “danger”, Castiel calmly began to speak.

“Are you planning on killing me?”

“No,” Azrael said. “That seems like too easy a punishment, does it not? In any case, if memory serves, death will not have you Castiel.”

“I suppose it was a clever plan,” Castiel continued, ignoring any fear he felt at what might await him. Although they lacked the ‘anything goes’ method of Hell, angels were not inept at torture. Castiel would know, considering the memory of the one time he had been allowed to remember his forceful reeducation was sometimes enough to have him searching out hard liquor or anything else he could find that would make his mind swim enough to drive away the images. The habit had lessened over time, though the urge had remained. “Use a familiar face against me. What I don’t understand is why you’re going after me. I would think the heavenly host has larger concerns at the moment.”

“You mean the increase in demonic activity. Well, Castiel, perhaps you haven’t considered that we have allowed it.”

“You can’t mean-“

“Lucifer will walk free and the end will begin. You can’t stop fate. You never could.”

“Brother, this doesn’t need to happen. We can continue as we are-“

“I am not your brother.”

Castiel did his best not to think of how that statement still stung. How his rejection from Heaven continued to haunt him even now. Besides, hurt feelings wouldn’t help him remove the knife from his throat.

“So the end is nigh and you decide your time is best spent tracking down wayward angels? Perhaps you should reconsider your priorities.”

“Oh, we’re not after you. We’re after the demon. He will help us open the Cage.”

Meg’s words of how Dean’s escape from Hell had put a crack through the Cage echoed through Cas’ head. It couldn’t be allowed to happen.

“I don’t even know where Dean is.”

“I’m sure your friends will figure it out. That is if they want to spare you pain. They are listening, aren’t they?”

So much for keeping that particular piece of information private. Azrael must have made some indication to one of the other angels- Cas suspected it was the one he had elbowed in the neck because he was not at all gentle- who searched Cas for the wire and microphone he had worn and zapped it with his grace. Castiel was on his own now, though he suspected Sam was already coming up with some sort of plan to get him out. If only he could keep stalling…

“Are you ready to see Heaven again, Castiel?”

*******************

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon… you’re fucking kidding me!” Dean shouted at the screen, watching as his character was completely overrun by zombie rabbits. The side of the split screen that showed his poor characters fate had zoomed in to show in detail how the red eyed rabbits tore him from limb to limb. Dean threw the controller down with an annoyed huff.

“Hey, don’t dent the thing,” Charlie warned, her eyes focused on the screen where her character was still managing to fight off the horde. Fluffy Terrors was a new video game that happened to have an upcoming competition with a grand prize of five thousand dollars for the duo that could come in first place. After killing Cain, Dean had drifted for about a week until he’d managed to get a hunt or two to push the edge off of the desire for violence. Afterwards, he’d gone to a library to research the most violent video game he could get his hands on. In doing so, he’d come across an ad from someone on the lookout for a partner for competing. Dean had toyed with the idea as a distraction from his inner turmoil, and after meeting and taking a liking to Charlie had figured it beat drinking by himself and pulling punches in unsatisfying bar fights.

Charlie almost made it to the safe zone before her character was taken down too.

“Fuck!” she yelled, likewise dropping her controller and starting to pout. “I really thought I had that.”

“Yeah, me too,” Dean said. “How’d we do?”

Charlie clicked through to see the score and groaned.

“Worse than last round. Let’s take a breather. I need food, and my computer. I haven’t been online since yesterday and I’m starting to feel the withdrawal.”

“Sure thing. Can you make me something?”

“Do I look like your mom? Besides, last time I gave you soup with a little bit of salt in it you freaked. I don’t want to have to deal with your weird food things.”

“Fine,” Dean answered. It’s not like he actually needed to eat anyway. “Be that way.”

Dean had expected Charlie to say something back, but she was busy staring at the door, a small frown on her face.

“Did I leave the door open?” she asked. “I could have sworn I’d closed it.”

“You did,” said a particularly unwelcome voice. “but I needed to speak with your friend there.”

Dean stood up and waved Charlie away from where she’d picked up her plastic lightsaber. It might have hurt a regular person if she’d jabbed them with it, but it was going to do shit against Crowley.

“What the fuck do you want?” Dean asked, eyes narrowed.

“So,” Crowley began, seeming to ignore Dean’s question. “This is how you spend your time now? Playing games about… rabbits?”

“Bunnies are scary. Just ask Anya,” Charlie muttered, still looking suspicious. If Dean wasn’t at the moment more concerned with why the King of Hell was in Charlie’s apartment, he might have rolled his eyes at the Buffy joke that Charlie had already run into the ground over the past week and a half.

“Why are you here, Crowley?”

Crowley continued to look around for a moment. The demon’s confidence in Dean resisting the urge to run the fucker through with an admittedly not demon killing switchblade was commendable.

“I’m just acting as a messenger, I’m afraid. Next time I’ll stop by for a social visit. Seems quite cozy here. Pretty far removed from your usual habits.”

“Get it out or get out, douche bag.”

“Alright, no need to blow a gasket. The moose just asked if I would inform you that your angel’s been kidnapped. He was under the impression you’d care.”

“Since when are you talking to Sam?” Dean asked suspiciously. “And why would you care?”

Crowley threw a phone to Dean, which he caught on reflex. On it was an audio file which Dean played, eyes never leaving Crowley. He listened as Cas spoke to someone- who sounded an awful lot like Meg, but who Cas had called Azrael- told Cas that he would be tortured if Dean didn’t cooperate with them. The phone shattered in his hand.

“Hey!” Crowley said. “I liked that phone.”

“Let me ask you this,” said Dean, making sure that the intent to kill Crowley about seven different ways was evident in his tone. “If you’re so against Lucifer rising, why would you give this to me?”

“Mostly because there are other methods they have of dragging you out, and if I can find you, so can they. Eventually. This way, you know that the chuckleheads you used to run around with are working on a plan to get Castiel back and you won’t do anything stupid, as I’m sure you would have if the angels had gotten to you first. I’d suggest you call your brother.”

Then Crowley disappeared. Dean swore and stuck his fist through the wall before remembering that this was Charlie’s apartment and she was standing about ten feet from him staring at him openmouthed.

“What the actual fuck is going on?”

“You don’t wanna know,” said Dean. “Look, Charlie, I gotta leave and I don’t know if I’ll be back. Sorry to leave you in the lurch.”

“No, wait a second, I think you owe me an explanation of who the hell was just in my apartment and why he was talking about torture and kidnapping and how the hell did he just-“

Charlie stopped short and stared. Dean was no longer there.

“You’re not going crazy, are you Charlie?” she whispered to herself, eyes wide with fear. She tried to sift through what she had heard and looked for any logical and reasonable explanation and was coming up with zip. Something was catching at the edge of her attention though. What was it? That name, Castiel…

“Oh, shit,” said Charlie. She ran to her room and sorted through her box of books to the bottom where a half read book she’d been given by a friend- who hadn’t even had the decency to buy her the first book in the series- was stashed. She looked it over and saw the cover art of a man with red eyes and a black suit and a man with wings in a trench coat were shaking hands. The thing had seemed kind of over dramatic to her- hence why it was only half read- but that name as definitely in it. She started re-reading trying to remember exactly what the book was about when she stopped over another name. Crowley.

“Holy fucking shit.”

*********************

Claire didn’t know how to act around Dean at the moment. She knew that they needed him if they were going to get Cas back, and they were trying to come up with a plan, but that didn’t mean all was forgiven from what had happened. Dean seemed to realize this, because he didn’t rib her the way he usually did. Then again that could just be because Cas’ ass was on the line if they didn’t come up with some way of appearing to go along with Azrael’s demands without actually going along with Azrael’s demands.

“How do we even get in contact with the bastards?” Dean asked.

“Um, prayer?” Jesse said like it was obvious. Which it was, but Dean didn’t need that pointed out to him right now. The glare he sent Jesse’s way had Claire crossing her arms and glowering at Dean.

“Fine, so we pray up this Azrael and ask what the fuck he wants me for. We talk a little, and then if all goes well we manage to trick them into giving Cas back.”

“But we don’t know what they’ll ask you to do. Or if they can just force you to do it.”

“I have an idea,” Dean muttered. “Because technically I could get Lucifer out. If I do what I did downstairs, blow another soul bomb… it might just crack open the Cage. That’s what they’ll be banking on.”

“Great. Well how are we supposed to stop that?” Claire asked. “You just pretend to blow something up?” A sudden spike of anger had her yelling. “This never would have happened if you hadn’t left.”

Everybody froze. They had very carefully not been mentioning that until now.

“You saw what I did to Cas.”

“Yeah, I did. And I would be lying if I said I wasn’t glad you split after that, but if you’d managed a bit more self control, maybe Cas wouldn’t be in danger right now.”

“Claire, trust me when I say that you have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

“You didn’t even apologize to him.”

“Yeah, well saying sorry isn’t really my style, princess. Now are you going to keep bringing this bullshit up, or are you going to pull your weight and help us figure out how to save Cas?”

Claire clenched her jaw, but stopped talking. Her eyes were still accusing though, and she shrugged off the soothing hand Jesse had placed on her back.

“I’ve got a plan,” Sam said, breaking the tense silence. “Because we have something they don’t know we have.”

“And what exactly is that?” Dean asked.

“An antichrist.”

*****************

After having talked everything out, they did all agree that it was unlikely that anyone working with Azrael knew that Jesse was an antichrist. Although it was common knowledge that there was a boy that traveled with them, Jesse’s identity was known only by Gabriel, Bobby, and Balthazar, and it was unlikely any of them had shared that information with anyone who was sympathetic to Lucifer. This being the case, Dean had prayed to Azrael and they had trapped the angel in an abandoned house in a circle of holy fire.

The angel had seemed annoyed at this, but confident no harm would come to him. To be fair, he was right since they couldn’t risk whatever would happen to Cas if Azrael didn’t return. The angel relayed strict instructions to Dean of where to go and when to go there, and was promised if he did as he was told, Castiel would be given back to them. Dean made the stipulations that he would only cooperate if Castiel himself were present at the church he asked Dean to go to. Azrael said that he would be, and left when Claire doused the holy fire, still wearing Meg’s body. Dean had been surprised to see that Meg was still in there, doing her best to try to claw her way out. He hadn’t realized that a single body could house both an angel and a demon simultaneously.

The convent they went to tasted of death. Sam had told Dean that a boat load of nuns had been murdered there years ago, and the massacre still hung over the place, tainting the air. More than that, there was just something wrong about it, and Dean felt it like an itch on his skin. He could tell Jesse could feel it too, though Sam and Claire didn’t seem to be registering it on quite the same level.

When they got inside, Dean’s eyes focused on Cas immediately. He didn’t look good. In fact he looked as though he had been put through a certain degree of pain already, despite the fact they had complied with the angels’ wishes. Not that that was surprising.

“Cas,” Dean called out casually. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

Castiel looked up, eyes pained and expressive but a grim little smile growing on his face.

“I think you just like seeing me in chains,” he said quietly, echoing one of Dean’s running jokes when Cas had used to hand cuff him when he attempted to kill people.

“Not even a little bit.”

“Are they flirting?” asked a timid angel voice from the corner of the room. She sounded very weirded out.

“Refrain from speaking, Ambriel,” said Azrael, eyes locked on Dean. Ambriel shut her mouth and went back to copying over spell work for building a soul bomb. “Castiel’s depravities are no concern of ours.”

“Hey, I’m doing you a favor, here, aren’t I? Calling me a depravity, that’s not exactly encouraging.”

“Dean, Lucifer can not escape,” Castiel began. He was cut off by Azrael.

“Continue to speak and I kill the girl. Understand?”

Castiel nodded, eyes flicking to Claire in concern. Claire raised her angel blade, clearly welcoming the challenge. Sam likewise brought out his weapon. Azrael raised an eyebrow, clearly perplexed.

“You can’t defeat us,” he said confidently. “We have warded this place well. Your abilities are limited here.”

“You’re right,” Dean said with a smile. “But his aren’t.”

Jesse took off the bracelets he wore with two quick motions and then the room erupted into chaos. The chains around Castiel disappeared, and gelatinous structures swallowed each of the angels, preventing them from moving or speaking. The jello-like substance was translucent and wobbly, but the angels evidently were unable to get out. The plan had worked better than they could have hoped.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Sam. “Before more come.”

“It’s a little too late for that,” said Raphael, strolling through the double doors that led into the room they were all standing in. The doors slammed behind him, locking into place. Jesse tried the same trick on him but the magic fell away with a thought from the angel. “I have to thank you all. I doubted that the demon would do our bidding, and you have brought us a worthwhile substitute. After all, all we needed was the right amount of energy.”

Raphael flicked her wrists, sending Castiel, Dean, Sam, and Claire against the far wall, unable to help Jesse who was staring the archangel down. Raphael reached out and placed her palm against Jesse’s forehead and began to chant. Claire watched helplessly as Jesse’s eyes widened in fear and he started to scream. She shut her eyes against the bright light Raphael coaxed out of him, which exploded in a flash of heat and energy that had the church foundations cracking. Jesse fell to the floor, blood leaking from empty eye sockets, pouring forth unbelievably fast and pooling. Below the blood sprung a crack that leaked the beginnings of light. For the first time since they had seen her, something like sadness crossed Raphael’s face. It was gone almost as quickly as it had arrived.

“I think I will leave you all for Lucifer to deal with. I doubt he will be happy,” Raphael said, flying away the moment she was done speaking. When he had gone, those left in the room found they were able to move again, and Claire ran forward, pulling Jesse up into her arms despite the fact he was dead, he was dead, he was…

“Claire, we need to leave.”

Cas’ voice sounded far away, and the fear in it didn’t stop Claire’s single minded focus. She was aware that she was calling out for Jesse, begging him to still be alive, but all she could do was look at the empty space where his eyes had been and hold him tighter because he couldn’t be dead. She had just wanted this one person. He couldn’t be. Life wasn’t fair, but it couldn’t be this damn cruel.

That Cas’ voice faded away even further should have bothered her, but she only had eyes for Jesse. It was a whole minute before she noticed the voice at the edge of her consciousness, the pressure against her mind.

“I can save him,” it promised. “I’m not how they have told you I am. Let me in and I will save him.”

If there were ever a time to face your very worst fear, Claire thought, eyes never leaving Jesse’s face.

“Promise?” she asked out loud, knowing that a promise from the Devil was worse than worthless, but she couldn’t let Jesse stay dead. It was her fault he was even here in the first place. If she’d just been able to let him go…

“If you say yes, I promise I will save him,” Lucifer confirmed. She couldn’t hear Cas yelling for her, nor could she see him and Dean trying to fight through an invisible barrier to reach her. All she knew was the dead boy in her arms.

“Then yes.”

*********************

Lucifer opened her eyes and gazed at the world for the first time in millennia. Even past the anger, the shame, the disappointment, she could still feel wonder when perceiving the subtle shifts of the air around her, the long histories of the stones and trees that had been used to build the man made structure in which she stood. It all tasted of creation in a way the Cage never had. No the Cage had been a lack of her father, as far removed as possible, and being reintroduced to the world made her ache with both joy and profound sadness.

She looked down at the boy that was now held in her arms, and frowned. Although she intended to keep her promise- felt compelled in all honesty since she considered the fact that the girl was willing to sacrifice herself this way a sign of great love, similar to how very much Lucifer had loved her father, though very different as well- she also recognized that there had also been great power within him, and she had an idea from Claire’s memories that he would try to use it against her. However, decision made, Lucifer knit back together the flesh and replaced the soul, waiting until the boy was breathing before gently setting him down and surveying her surroundings.

There were four dead angels suspended in grey gelatinous matter within the room. Lucifer could taste from the magic that had been done to produce them that their original intent had been only to capture, and suspected the change had occurred when the boy had been in the process of dying, possibly unintentional. She saw now, that there were also the shocked faces of a man, a demon, and an angel. The demon she recognized as carrying the mark she had once carried, the one she had given to Cain to spite her father for locking her away. Next to him was Castiel, the sole angel that the demon Meg who had been in his service had spoken of in any kind of positive light.

“I’m home,” she said out loud, partly in wonder and partly in triumph.

“Brother, please release her,” Castiel said, breaking out of his stupor. “I beg of you, let her go. Choose someone else, choose anyone else.”

Lucifer walked up to her brother and placed a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. He shrank away from her touch and looked at her with abject horror.

“Please, Lucifer, not Claire.”

“I’m sorry, Castiel,” Lucifer said, still perplexed at the intensity of his emotions and the care he showed for a lowly human. “But I need a strong vessel. Besides, I like this one. She has charisma.”

Lucifer watched for a moment in fascination as tears began to run down her brother’s face. The angel was steeped in humanity, the gesture of sorrow out of place for an angel to use. He wore his vessel as thought were his true body, and although Lucifer had been interested in the angel who had stood against the host of heaven multiple times and without fail, she found herself unsettled by him.

Lucifer removed her hand from her brother’s shoulder and turned to look once more at the crack she had crawled out of and with a slight burst of power managed to seal it shut. Then, she decided it was time to move before any of the other angels sensed her presence. She wanted to make her move on heaven in her own time, and without pointless intervention.

****************

The first thing Jesse thought when he woke up was that he shouldn’t have been able to wake up. He was absolutely certain he had died, had felt his insides burn out as his soul was dragged from his body. There was no surviving that as far as he knew.

He sat straight up and stared around him, trying to figure out what had happened. The trapped angels were still there, as was Sam who had started to make his way over to Jesse. Castiel was slumped against the wall, face buried in his hands with Dean knelt next to him, clearly trying to speak with him. Jesse looked around once more, but one person remained stubbornly missing from the room.

“Wh-Where’s Claire?”


	20. Aftermath

Dean knew keeping a level head was going to be key in getting everyone moving. If there was one thing he had learned back in his human hunting days, it was that someone always came to investigate the scene of the crime eventually, and you usually did not want to be caught there. He glanced over at Sam, whose hyper focused eyes revealed Dexter was in charge at the moment. Good. He nodded toward Jesse, silently cueing Sam to deal with him while Dean got Cas up and moving.

“Cas, buddy, I need you to look at me,” said Dean, carefully prying Cas’ hands from his face. “Cas, eyes here.”

It took a few seconds for the angel to focus in on Dean, and when he did he flinched into the wall behind him. Dean realized he had unconsciously let his eyes go black and quickly flicked them back to normal.

“Hey, hey, Cas. It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

“Claire…”

“I know, but there’s nothing we can do right now. Demons and angels are going to be storming this place any minute, and we can’t be here when they do. If we want to save Claire, first thing’s first: we have to get out of here. You with me?”

Cas nodded, still seeming a little out of it. Dean grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. That seemed to pull him back to his senses at least a little. He glanced around him, and when he caught sight of Jesse, a look of fear crossed his face. Dean realized at the same time Cas did that Jesse wasn’t wearing the sigils that kept his powers under check.

“Sam,” Dean said quickly, nodding towards Jesse’s wrists. Sam glanced away from where he had been delivering a summary of what had happened to see what Dean wanted, and then jerked towards where the bracelets lay abandoned on the floor and shoved them back on Jesse’s arms. The boy barely seemed to notice, clueing Dean into the fact that Sam had probably broken the news to him about Claire already. They were lucky to be alive.

Dean was surprised when Castiel grabbed his arm suddenly, but was relieved that the gears in the angels head seemed to be turning again.

“We need to get to Jo Harvelle,” he said. Dean could hear the guilt in his voice, that he didn’t want to instantly tear ass after Claire. “With… with Lucifer risen, Michael will likely seek out his true vessel.”

“Shit,” said Dean. Now he had to deal with an angry Jo, an emotionally unstable Cas, and try to find some way to get the actual Devil to stop possessing Claire Novak. Getting out of hell was supposed to be relaxing, not the maelstrom his life had become since the day he met Sam and Cas. “Do you have any idea where she is?”

“No. We’ll need to ask Bobby,” Castiel said. He was starting to sound frantic, and Dean suspected he could feel angels locking in on their location. “We must leave now.”

Castiel walked swiftly over to Jesse, and with a touch the two of them were gone. Dean followed shortly after with Sam, reappearing just outside Bobby’s heavily warded home. When he walked in, Jesse was explaining what had happened to Bobby with a dead eyed expression as Castiel stared down at his shoes, apparently unable to speak. For once, Bobby was too distracted to throw holy water at him, so Dean figured there were silver linings to even the worst of all fucking situations.

****************

Jesse made sure everybody was distracted trying to figure where Jo and Ellen Harvelle were before he snuck out of Bobby’s house. He’d been left alone since first escaping to his old room. For some reason the fact that Bobby had washed the sheets since he’d been gone, but otherwise kept the mess of a place the exact same was what kick started a few tears. The thought that he might never see Claire again eked out a few more before he managed to angrily wipe them away and forced himself to stop.

He would see Claire again, he thought grimly, looking down at the bracelets that he’d worn constantly for months on end. He slipped them off and pocketed them before carefully climbing out the window and hopping onto a tree branch that had been his method of getting out of the house since he was young, since Bobby and Gabriel had made sure that his room was well warded against anyone being able to teleport in or out. He dropped to the ground and landed a little harder than usual. The pain of it spurred him forward, breaking out into a run so he could get far enough from Bobby’s house that he would be safe. He figured he’d ran about three miles before he felt safe doing what he was planning.

He pictured Claire’s face and imagined her standing next to him, waiting for reality to bend to his will as it always had. He thought about it harder than he had ever thought about anything before. He focused and focused and waited for her to appear. Nothing happened.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Jesse muttered to himself, his fingernails digging into his hands hard enough to bleed lightly. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried even harder but there was nothing. Not even the usual tension and resistance he felt when intentionally affecting his environment. It disquieted him enough that he stopped trying. Then he pictured a tree growing in the ground next to him, a trick he’d been able to do for years. Still nothing.

“I’m human,” Jesse realized. That he had longed for normality at certain points in his life was meaningless now. Claire was gone and he couldn’t help. He was worse than useless. He was nothing.

*********************

Human to angel communication is an interesting thing. There is of course prayer, which acts as a clear message delivered from a person to the angel or angels in question. To put it into human terms, it’s like speaking aloud. Of course, communication is so much more than the spoken, written, or signed word. Silences can speak as loud as words, eyes can be as expressive. Sometimes it only takes a look to deliver a message. In the same way, sometimes longing or other strong emotions can act almost as a prayer.

So when Gabriel felt the familiar tug on his grace, from a boy he thought he’d never hear from again, he didn’t hesitate for one second in appearing at his side. If Jesse was surprised to see him, Gabriel didn’t get to see because he was too busy hugging the stupid kid.

“Gabriel-“

“That’s my name don’t wear it out,” Gabriel said, patting Jesse on the back gently. Gabriel took a step back then and felt familiar hurt when Jesse wouldn’t meet his eyes. In all fairness, Jesse wasn’t looking at anything, just staring as though he wasn’t even really capable of taking in any new information at the moment. “You have no idea how good it is to see you,” Gabriel said earnestly, trying to catch the kid’s eye. “Raphael said you were-“

“Raphael was the one who killed me.”

A beat.

“He did what?” Gabriel asked flatly. If it was true… if it was true Raphael would never stop paying for his action. Gabriel could be incredibly imaginative given the correct motivation. “That can’t be. He’s an archangel. If he killed you, Cas wouldn’t be able to just-“

“Lucifer brought me back… because Claire… Claire…”

Gabriel had had to deal with Jesse crying before, but not since he was little. He forgot how much it fucked him up, seeing the kid upset or hurt. He conjured up a couch for Jesse to sit on and sat him down, letting him cry it out so he could hear exactly what had happened. Jesse recounted the tale in fits and bursts, little pieces of information from the last several months coming out between the events that had led Lucifer to possess Claire Novak.

“She must be so scared,” Jesse confided, and despite the situation, Gabriel felt better now than he had in ages knowing that Jesse still trusted him, even if he had run away. “That was the worst thing she could ever think to happen to her, was becoming a vessel. And she did that for me, and I’m fucking useless-“

“Kid, you are not useless.”

“I’m human now.”

Gabriel had suspected. Lucifer wouldn’t leave a threat un-neutralized. It didn’t change a thing.

“So what? Claire was human. You don’t think she’s useless too, do you?”

Jesse didn’t answer. Gabriel searched for something else to say.

“You don’t need powers to be amazing, kiddo. You do that just by being you.”

Jesse snorted, a bubble of snot coming out of his nose. He wiped it away with a materialized tissue from Gabriel. What exactly Gabriel was going to do with the new world order he wasn’t sure yet, but there was one thing he knew: he was damn well going to make sure Jesse came out of it alright.

“I’m going to save her,” Jesse said at last, quiet but determined.

Of course all of this was why Gabriel hadn’t wanted Jesse to get involved with the girl in the first place. Castiel attracted trouble wherever he went and it was painfully obvious the girl was just the same, but it was far too late at this point. Jesse wasn’t going to be dissuaded and Gabriel wasn’t going to risk doing something that would make him run away without contact again.

“Anything I can do to help, I will,” he promised. Fuck the consequences. The careful diplomacy he’d been keeping over the past ten years had never really been his style anyway.

*****************

In hindsight, appearing at Bobby’s without warning or explanation as probably not a good idea. Then again, punching an archangel in the face wasn’t a good idea either and that didn’t stop Cas from doing just that and probably worse if he hadn’t been restrained by Dean the next second.

“Cas-“

“You knew, didn’t you?” Castiel yelled at Gabriel, ignoring the fact Jesse was behind him, or maybe just not able to see him through his mind narrowing fury. “It was your job to keep Michael and Raphael from opening the Cage. You promised, you dick! This is all your fault! If it wasn’t for you-“

“If it wasn’t for me, Lucy would have been out a whole lot sooner,” Gabriel said back, eyes narrowed at the stubborn angel in front of him who had angrily shrugged off the demon’s restraining hands. “And I’m sorry if it’s hard trying to fix heaven, stop angels abandoning the place, quell a rebellion, and look after two archangels all at that same time. I’ve been trying, Cassie. That’s a lot more than I can say for you.”

Cas looked as though he wanted to hit him again.

“I wasn’t wanted in heaven. What could I have possibly done to help?”

“Stow the dramatics, Cas. This isn’t about heaven or hell, or even your precious fucking humans. This is about the fact that Lucy stole Claire. And that, brother, is not my fault. I’m not the one who picked her up off the street and let her hunt. I’m not the one who let her and Jesse get so attached that she would agree to anything to save his life… not that I don’t appreciate that,” Gabriel said, voice softening for one second before he continued his tirade. “And I’m not the one who made rebelling from heaven a fucking trend. Do you have any idea how hard it was trying to fix heaven when stories like Samandriel’s were floating around? Any attempt at progress and everybody screams mind control now. I couldn’t fix a system no one wanted to work in. And Mikey and Raph? You think they fucking gave ground on anything? I have been fighting tooth and nail for over ten years to try to stop this from happening. You can’t put this on me Castiel. You want someone to blame, you get a fucking mirror.”

Gabriel regretted it the next second. How an angel of the Lord could have so mastered looking like a beaten kitten he would never know. Also he was fairly certain he’d just made it onto the demon’s to kill list, if the glare that was being sent his way was anything to go by.

“Are we done with the blame game?” asked Bobby gruffly, breaking the strained tension in the room. “Far as I can see, everyone made their own choices and everybody is responsible. What we need to do now is focus on some way to fix this giant mess. Now Gabriel, you got any insight into what exactly we need to do next? Castiel is convinced that we need to track down the Harvelles before Michael can.”

Gabriel nodded.

“As soon as they call me back, I’ll send these three out to get to her, but in all honesty I’m guessing that you can’t watch the Harvelles twenty four seven and track down Lucifer,” Bobby continued. “Got a plan for that?”

“Samandriel’s people will help protect her,” Castiel said, ignoring the incredulous manner in which Gabriel rolled his eyes. “If I can convince her to go to them, which… could prove difficult.”

“Why not? Send Michael’s vessel to a bunch of liars and troublemakers,” Gabriel muttered.

“You assume Samandriel isn’t telling the truth?” Castiel asked. And once again they were dangerously close to fighting. That angels were constantly killing each other was getting more believable by the second.

“If there was mind control in Heaven, I think I would know about it.”

“Like you knew about Raphael’s plot to raise Lucifer?”

“Don’t forget Cassie, there are a million different ways I could fuck you up if you don’t show me some god damn respect.”

“God granting you more power than me did not make you a better man, Gabriel. You are a coward, and you do not look for inconvenient truths. You only ever act when someone else first pushes and pushes at you. You only pick sides when it is the only option left to you. And no matter what you do to me, I will not be cowed by a backstabbing asshat like you.”

Castiel and Gabriel were the only ones not to flinch when with a burst of thunder Gabriel’s eyes glowed and his wings spread out as shadows that overlapped each other in their magnitude in a threatening display of power.

“Alright then, everybody put their dicks away,” Bobby said loudly. “Gabriel, Jesse is standing right here, and he will never forgive you if you hurt Castiel, you understand that yet you posturing feather brain?”

Gabriel turned and saw Jesse’s horrified expression. The room went back to normal.

“You said you would help get Claire back,” Jesse said, sounding wounded. “You promised.”

“And I will,” Gabriel said. Castiel looked an odd mixture of grateful and pissed off at hearing this. “You know, Cassie, we were on the same side once.”

“And then you let Raphael kill me.”

“It was a compromise. Would you have rather had Jo Harvelle on the chopping block?”

Cas’ eyes widened at the implication.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that Michael and Raphael were not very forgiving after what happened and they were going to take it out on someone’s head. I figured at least with you it would be quick. I would have told you, but honestly I knew what you would have said. You would have walked to your death willingly if you knew her life was at stake. And I had to look like I was breaking my alliance with you. It was the only way to try to fix heaven, what you’d sacrificed everything for. You were going to die anyway, eventually. Do you even have a clue how many people were out for your head? I wanted your death to mean something. So yeah, I let Raphael kill you. So sue me. You’re alive now anyway.”

“And you didn’t tell me this before because…?”

“You didn’t ask.”

The silence this confession led to was broken by a ringing telephone. Bobby hurried to answer it and gestured for Sam to come over and take notes while he spoke with Ellen Harvelle. It took a few minutes to pry their location out of the paranoid woman, but Bobby managed to go through enough security questions that Ellen was confident it actually was him. She wasn’t going to like the fact that Bobby was sending Castiel her way, but he agreed that the Harvelles needed to be more careful now that Lucifer was walking and talking again.

******************

The gun was knocked from Jo’s hand as the werewolf attacked her. Jo reached for the thing’s throat, keeping it’s snapping teeth at a distance from her so she couldn’t be turned, the other hand fumbling for her gun so she could shoot the thing.

“Mom, I could use a little fucking help!” Jo yelled, knowing she’d probably get told off later for cursing but really, really not caring. Unfortunately Ellen was busy with her own werewolf and not exactly in the position to help. Jo wasn’t aware of that and let out a sigh of relief when the werewolf slumped with a distressed whine. She hadn’t heard a shot go off, but that might have been because she was a little distracted defending her life. “Thanks.”

Jo pushed the werewolf off of her and then stilled.

“Cas?”

“Hello, Jo,” Castiel said. Jo looked past him and noticed that Dean- god that still screwed with her thoughts sometimes, seeing the man she’d known in a new body- and the soulless guy and Jesse standing around. Ellen had killed the werewolf attacking her and was just becoming aware of what was happening. She and Jo exchanged a glance. Jo cleared her throat.

“Considering I hate most of your guts- not you Jesse- you must be here for a reason,” Jo said, waiting for someone to say something. “Well? The world better be fucking ending.”

The awkward shifting that that caused was definitely a reason for some pretty serious concern. Jo prepared herself for the worst.

“Lucifer has been freed from the Cage,” Castiel said at long last.

Yep. Nowhere near prepared to hear that. Jo let out a shaky breath and met her mom’s eyes before answering.

“Think you can mojo us back to the Roadhouse?” Jo asked, retrieving her gun and shoving it back in it's holster with no shortage of aggression in the movement. “Because if I have to have this conversation there is no way I’m doing it sober.”

*****************

Lucifer had been kept informed since the crack first appeared in her Cage, and she knew that the Apocalypse was not something that was likely to happen anymore. Everything associated it had been carefully dismantled by the traitorous demon Crowley and his ilk. However, at the moment this was not important to Lucifer. No, what was most important was speaking to Michael, face to face. Her brother would understand what he had done to her if it was the last thing she did.

Michael did not inform anyone else when he met with Lucifer. She had chosen a mountain, though he supposed she had always had a flair for the dramatic. Michael appeared next to her silently, waiting for the accusations to begin, or the attacks, or the tricks. He should have known Lucifer would be quiet at first, would let the pain radiate off her from having been separated from creation for so long.

“You’ve chosen an interesting vessel,” said Lucifer at last, indicating the fact that Michael was wearing the body of John Winchester.

“It seemed fitting. And my first choice was… unavailable.”

“I think you mean untraceable,” Lucifer corrected, unable to help herself from rubbing in the fact that Michael was not all powerful, nor all knowing. She sighed then, and made an effort to lighten her tone. “I wanted to speak to you today because I’ve had millennia to reflect, and although I still think you should apologize for what you’ve done to me, I’ve come to recognize it’s not your fault.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lucifer. You disobeyed. What happened to you was only ever your fault.”

“No, no!” Lucifer insisted, standing before her brother with earnest eyes. “Don’t you see it? This is all God’s fault. He knew what the Mark would do to me. He knew it! And when it did exactly what it was supposed to, he punished me for it. He can’t claim omniscience and then be disappointed with the consequences of his own actions. He did this to me.”

“You were weak.”

“I was the strongest of all of us. You can call me a lot of things Michael, but don’t you ever call me weak. We were brothers once. We relied on each other. We loved each other. What He made of us? What He made you do to me? No good father would have asked that. He locked me away just like He locked Her away. Just like He would let you get locked away if you didn’t bend to his capricious will.”

“You blaspheme.”

“Tell me I’m lying.”

Michael was silent. Even blind faith can only be stretched so far.

“Our Father has left us,” he said instead. “I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.”

Lucifer tentatively reached out a hand to her brother. Michael did not flinch when she touched him.

“We never did anything wrong. He’s the one who did this. And He will answer to us.”

“I just want to take care of what family I have left Lucifer,” Michael said. His hesitance to answer was enough to encourage Lucifer into pressing harder, hitting where she knew it hurt.

“You threw me away once brother. Please don’t do so again. I have been more for you than our Father ever was or ever will be. I am begging you, help me find him. Help me make sure he pays for his crimes against us.”

“I can’t.”

“Please?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Then kill me properly this time,” said Lucifer. “I won’t live imprisoned nor run from our brothers. I won’t hesitate to kill them should they threaten me, so if you won’t help me, you had better kill me now.”

But Michael couldn’t. Fate and destiny had already been torn from him. The grand plan had been so thoroughly twisted beyond recognition he couldn’t tell what was God’s will and what wasn’t anymore. He was lost, and Lucifer seemed so certain… he broke. He couldn’t see the look of betrayal on his brother’s face again. He wouldn’t.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Keep the angels under your control out of my way,” Lucifer said, eyes shining with love and hope. “Neither you nor I can find our father, but I know someone who can.”

Michael took a step back, shocked.

“You can’t mean…?”

“I think for once God should take on someone His own size. Don’t you?”


	21. Go Green for Satan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About the chapter title: I thought to myself, what should I call this? This was my first idea. I think it really ties the chapter together and isn't random at all. Anyways, enjoy reading!

Lucifer was unsure whether or not to involve the demons of Hell in her plans. Although they swore fealty to her without resistance, enough of them had agreed to follow Crowley and destroy any chance of an Apocalypse that she was keenly aware that their loyalties were not written in stone. More than that, demons weren’t quite to her taste.

The only demon that Lucifer trusted to follow her orders without reserve, the one who had ensured her escape, was Meg, and she had disappeared without a trace. Likely she was dead, which again, left Lucifer without counsel or trustworthy servants. This didn’t stop her from sending some of Meg’s head demons to retrieve the Book of the Damned for her. She knew of it only by taste, as she could feel the magic creating it had left behind, but the demons she sent seemed fearful of it. The witch-nun who had written it, Agnes, filled them with primordial fear. Of course, Lucifer was their first concept of primordial fear. The thing that drove the devout to make the sign of the cross, her name on their lips when their lives fell apart at their feet.

How humanity thought Lucifer saw to all their little misfortunes she would never know. Really, she had better things to do than give children cancer or tempt teenagers to cheat on history tests. Besides what she had done to Lilith and Cain, she had hardly touched humanity. She had only supplied the barest of tools; they were the ones who had chased their own destruction. Sure, she had planned to annihilate them, but that was to save the polar bears for the most part.

In any case, the Book of the Damned was delivered to her promptly and with the appropriate reverence to her. She had missed the admiration of her true form, the gazes of awe at her beauty and light. And the vessel she had chosen was not lacking in appreciative glances either. Vanity was a sin according to the ridiculous book supposedly accredited to her Father, but she figured if you were going to go against God himself, best not to half ass it, as her vessel would say.

Gaps in Lucifer’s knowledge had been filled by prodding through the mind of the girl she had possessed. Claire Novak was kept within her happier spaces, and Lucifer was surprised to find that was mostly motel rooms watching daytime television with her boyfriend, a demon, an angel, and unstable recently resouled man. She was fairly confident this wasn’t a normal human picture of idyllic life, but it was what kept Claire calmest and from resisting Lucifer’s control of her body.

The girl was strong willed, Lucifer would say that for her. At first she had fought tooth and nail to defend her memories from Lucifer’s gaze, though she had weakened as time went on and Lucifer kept up her careful scratching, not wanting to damage any useful information. It was sheer exhaustion that had let Lucifer into her private thoughts and memories, and once that had happened, Claire hadn’t been able to push her out. Instead she’d retreated into the deepest corners of herself, and Lucifer had been happy to supply a means of escape for her.

Every man shall seek their peace, Lucifer thought as she examined the Book of the Damned, knowing that secrets not meant for the eyes of man, let alone the eyes of angels lay inside. She would need someone to translate, and perform the spell that would free Her. And then her Father would answer for the very first of His crimes, the one made everything else possible. He would understand, if the universe itself had to end for Him to realize.

**************

It was Jo’s third drink in about twenty minutes. She could see her mother staring at her in disapproval, but she didn’t care. She just kept listening to Castiel’s story, waiting for him to finish. He stuttered over the end, emotion overwhelming him as he spoke about Claire, the blonde girl who had helped to rescue Jo and Ellen when they’d been at Crowley’s mercy and Jesse had later run off with. Jo got the feeling he was more upset about who got possessed than the fact that Lucifer had risen. Cold fury rose within her as quickly as her blood alcohol level, and when Castiel stopped speaking, she was silent for a few seconds before letting the anger hiss out of her slowly and quietly.

“So what you’re saying is, that after everything, after what you did to Adam… it was all for nothing.”

“Jo.”

Just one word, and Jo wanted to kill him. Tear the bastard apart. But of course it was those eyes, infinitely sad and apologetic that stopped her, just like always. Why it mattered that Castiel was trying, or wanted to be helpful, or was doing what he thought was right… why it mattered she wouldn’t think about. Suffice to say it did, but that didn’t stop her from verbally lashing out.

“You killed my brother and the only reason was to stop Lucifer from getting out. And now the Devil’s walking and talking in some teenage girl, and my brother is still dead. No heaven for him, just nothing. Forever. I will never see him again, and his sacrifice did nothing.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care. Fuck you.”

“I don’t expect you to… Jo you have every right to hate me,” Castiel said in almost a whisper. His voice gained back some of its usual conviction as he kept speaking. “But believe me when I say I am here only to make sure you stay safe. I want to make sure you’re not involved in this, that Michael doesn’t send anyone after you. You don’t have to like me to accept my help, nor is it in anyway you saying you forgive me. I’m not asking anything from you.”

Jo stared sullenly down at her drink, ignoring the angel. She could feel her shoulders tense as her mother took over the conversation for her. She supposed she couldn’t blame her mother for being interested. After all, she only had one kid left to keep alive, she was going to be invested, especially when this one had already died and gone to hell once.

“So we pack up and keep our heads low at Bobby’s for a while,” Ellen said calmly. “And y’all keep us in the loop about what exactly is going on with… Satan.”

“That won’t work,” said Dean. “C’mon, everyone knows where Bobby’s is. Sure it’s warded to the nth degree and everything, but even I can break in. Big, scary archangel? Definitely going to be able to break through eventually. Plus that isolates you from anyone less powerful than Michael and Lucifer who could help if they do manage to break through the wards.”

Castiel nodded and continued.

“What you need is to stay with a group that can outrun them and stay on the move. Be halfway across the world at a moment’s notice and has a vested interest in not letting Lucifer or Michael near you.”

That sounded a lot like angels.

“Excuse me if I’m misreading you here,” Ellen said, a mite of frustration starting to leak into her raspy voice. “But that sounds an awful lot like angels, and we don’t exactly have great history with you lot.”

“Understatement,” Jo muttered, downing the rest of her third drink and then pouring herself another.

“Joanna Beth, if you do not put that down, so help me God-“

“Oh right, because God helps people now, huh?” Jo snapped back, shutting her mom up for a second, which was a feat in itself. She set the drink down anyway before continuing her rant “I mean, Adam dies for the greater good and we got sweet fuck all for it. Now it’s round two on Apocalypse now, and where exactly is God? Where the actual fuck is he?”

“Try New Mexico, I hear he’s on a tortilla,” Dean quipped, breaking the building tension. Sam was the only one who laughed. Jo watched as Jesse swung his legs and stared at his hands. He was the next one to speak.

“Jo, Cas and Gabriel really do just want to help you and your mom,” he said earnestly, if sadly. “You believe me don’t you?”

Jo looked at Jesse and tried to pack up her anger to manage a weak smile. She had a soft spot for the kid, who’d been around at Bobby’s whenever she and Ellen visited, and had been a real nice kid once you got around all the little tricks he pulled by accident. She nodded and reached out to stop his legs from swinging. It was then that she noticed the pain in his face, what she’d been too consumed in her own grief to see before.

“Yeah, Jesse, I believe you,” Jo said. She took one deep breath. “Okay, Cas, who exactly are these people you want to send us to?”

“Their leader’s name is Samandriel. They have a vested interest on keeping off Heaven’s radar, as he is a target of Heavenly assassination.”

“You going to tell us why?” Ellen asked.

“He was a victim of certain torture techniques in Heaven used to facilitate mind control. They weren’t meant to be remembered. When he shared his story, Heaven split into factions and many angels left. He is the angel that is most sympathetic to humanity that I could send you to. And his followers will accept you. You’re as much an outcast as they are.”

“And if they don’t?” asked Jo.

“I’ll find someplace else. I would see to your protection myself, but I need to get Claire back. If I don’t…” Castiel trailed off, throat closing off over the end of the sentence. Jesse and Dean likewise looked down.

“If you don’t you’ll know exactly how I felt when you told me what happened to Adam.”

*******************

Gabriel returned to Heaven instead of accompanying Jesse and the others to see the Harvelles because Michael had called for him and Raphael. Gabriel held his sword at the ready in case of any attempt by either Michael or Raphael to attack him, but they both seemed to be calm enough when he entered the room. Michael had taken a new vessel, one who was in his sixties and imposing in stature. It suited him.

“Heya, hermanos. What’s shaking?” Gabriel asked in an imitation of his usual cavalier self. He couldn’t help but notice the slightly smug look on Raphael’s face and had to resist the urge to smite the expression into oblivion. “We going to talk about the Lucy problem?”

“That was the plan, brother,” Michael said, long used to Gabriel’s informality. Raphael nodded and then put on the face that signified she meant business.

“We can start to organize our warriors against her and her demons immediately. I’m sure angels are already preparing for possible-“

“No,” said Michael. Raphael frowned in confusion. “We’re going to let Lucifer’s plans run their course.”

Now it was Gabriel’s time to look confused.

“What? Michael, I’m pretty sure I know the answer to this, but are you high? You just want to let Lucifer destroy everything? I’m pretty sure that’s what we’ve been trying to stop for ten years.”

“That’s what you’ve been trying to stop,” Raphael countered, drawing a glare from Gabriel. If the punk had any idea what Gabriel had dreamed up for her, she wouldn’t antagonize him like that. Then again, if she had any idea what he’d planned up for her, she would be running far, far away. “It’s time for us to fulfill the prophecies. Can’t you see, brothers? At long last we can have the peace we’ve dreamed of.”

“Can we?” Michael asked, bitterness in his voice. Well, that change of heart caught Gabriel’s attention. “I’ve spoken to Lucifer. She has no designs to begin the Apocalypse, nor any ability to do so if she wanted. There are no prophecies left to fulfill. We are on our own, and Lucifer wants only to see God again. We will let her carry out her plans.”

“What are her plans?” Gabriel asked. “Because from what I remember, Lucifer was kind of an impulsive brat when it came to doing unreasonable shit.”

Michael’s hesitation did not exactly inspire confidence.

“In the Beginning their were Two,” he said, leaving his silence to fill in the blanks. Gabriel was the first to understand, though Raphael wasn’t far behind. They hurriedly tried to speak over each other.

“Oh Hell no!”

“What purpose could that possibly serve, Michael?”

“Mikey, I think we need to talk some sense into Lucy stat. That is the worst fucking plan I’ve ever heard. You think She’s just going to get over the fact that we helped lock Her up? Because, newsflash, She’s got a pretty good reason to hold a grudge. She’s not going to give a fuck we’re the ones that let Her out or suddenly want to help us get the family back together.”

“This is utter madness, and completely against what our Father would want us to do-“

“Silence,” Michael demanded. Grudgingly the other two archangels stopped speaking. “Lucifer thinks it will work and I believe her. It is the only way we might finally find God, and if it is not meant to be then He will intervene.”

“You won’t be swayed from this plan?” Raphael asked. Michael shook his head. “Then I will lead the angels against Lucifer myself.”

“Do what you must,” Michael said, sounding resigned.

“And you Gabriel? Where do you stand?”

Well, he didn’t agree with either of them, but there was no reason they needed to know that yet.

“Can I speak with Raphael alone?” Gabriel asked. Once Michael had left them, Raphael began speaking.

“You are making the right decision-“

“You know Lucifer brought Jesse back to life.”

Raphael tensed.

“Did she?”

“Yeah. She did. It’s how she got into Claire Novak’s body. Unfortunately Jesse couldn’t remember much about what happened before then.”

Raphael relaxed minutely and that’s when Gabriel made his move, slashing his knife across her neck and draining her Grace into a vial. Raphael gurgled at him in shock, eyes wide and surprised.

“But one thing he did remember was exactly who had killed him,” Gabriel said as he pressed a hand to his brother’s neck, healing the wound there. “A certain archangel we all know and tolerate.”

“What have you done to me?”

“Oh, this is only the start. You want an Apocalypse so bad, Raphael?” Gabriel asked, eyes glinting. He snapped his fingers and suddenly they were surrounded by the moaning of zombies. “Congratulations, here you go. And as soon as you die? Another one starts up and you get to live through that one too. In fact, you get to cycle through every Apocalypse ever thought up. And here’s the real kicker. You get to do all this as one of those mud monkeys you hate so much. You get to feel the pain and the horror and the helplessness. You get to understand exactly what you tried to do.”

“All of this for some demon spawn child that never should have existed in the first place?” Raphael snarled, eyes wandering around her as the zombies began to close in. Gabriel took pity and snapped his finger, putting a shotgun in her hands.

“Nope. All of this to teach you a lesson. And maybe when you’ve learned it I’ll let you out. Then again maybe not. And by the way? That demon spawn child is better than you will ever be.”

“You can’t just leave me-“

“I can and I will. And don’t think I feel guilty. I’m only giving you exactly what you asked for.”

*****************

Castiel met with Balthazar in order to determine Samandriel and his follower’s current location. Balthazar gave it and wished Castiel luck with he whole Lucifer thing. He even offered a modicum of support about Claire, which was more than Castiel had expected from him. Though both loyal and caring, Balthazar was never one for sentiment.

Castiel traveled ahead to meet with Samandriel, but was stopped by Hannah who was currently guarding their encampment against any angels they did not instantly recognize. When she noticed him, she greeted him with a small smile, before her face went grim. Her vessel was different Castiel noticed suddenly, and she seemed less at ease.

“We’ve heard the news,” she said simply. “Samandriel would want me to extend our condolences.”

“Can I speak with him?”

“We don’t really want anyone to-“

“It is important, Hannah. Please. It is not for my sake.”

“We can’t bring Claire back to you. You must know that.”

Castiel shook his head.

“I want you to take in Jo and Ellen Harvelle. They are both vessels, and I worry what would happen if one of our brethren caught them. Besides, they are good hunters, and untraceable. They could be helpful to your cause, and teach you to fight without using grace. Then your mission of protecting humans could continue without bringing the forces of Heaven against you. Please, brother, ask him for me.”

Hannah sighed and repeated Castiel’s message to Adina who went to inform Samandriel. As they waited, Hannah looked towards Castiel, concern clouding her expression.

“How are you, Castiel?”

If ever there was a less useful question.

“I noticed you have a new vessel,” Castiel said instead of answering. Hannah nodded. She was confused, he could tell, but didn’t press him for answers.

“Yes. When we came under attack from angels, we tried to remove ourselves from the Men of Letters out of concern for them. Many of them insisted we continue to possess them,” Hannah said. “So many of us did. And when the time came to switch vessels, some had grown so close they refused to. Caroline attempted to do this, but I couldn’t…”

“You spoke with your vessel?”

“Samandriel asked us to. To check in and ensure that they continued to be comfortable with our presences. But it was more than that. In many ways… Caroline was my friend. And when she told me that I could continue to use her body past the date she had agreed, at first I wanted to accept. But she missed her husband so terribly. I didn’t want to cause her pain.”

Castiel laughed in quiet wonder. Hannah did not take kindly to that and he hurried to explain before she left in a huff. She was one of Heaven’s more steady angels, but she did have a temper at times. Castiel remembered once when Uriel had made a risky move in a heavenly battle and then made a joke at her expense when she had questioned him about it. Hannah had responded by crushing his vessel’s face against a wall.

“I’m not making fun of you, Hannah. You just surprised me, that’s all.”

She sighed, looking down at herself.

“Connor is a perfectly fine vessel,” she continued. “And yet I don’t feel the same. I miss Caroline’s body. I look at my reflection sometimes and I’m shocked when I don’t see her face there.”

“I understand,” Castiel said, trying to imagine himself in a body that wasn’t Jimmy’s. He couldn’t do it.

“It’s an oddity I will adjust to, though,” Hannah said. She snapped back from any vulnerability she had shown to her usual state of intense seriousness. “In any case, we are keeping in contact with the Men of Letters and doing what we can, though it is far less than what we were able to do before. In addition, there have been problems at their base of operations. One of the men there went missing, and they’re now staffed with three trainees and one experienced senior Men of Letters. It’s not much less than they had before, but it’s enough of a difference that they haven’t been able to help us much in avoiding the angels. Many of them are still our vessels, and some have had to go into hiding.”

“How many dead?” Castiel asked.

“More than I want to name or have to remember. We thought they would be safer with us to help them. We didn’t think our own would turn against us.”

Before Castiel could continue their conversation, Samandriel appeared next to them with Adina.

“Castiel, it’s good to see you.”

“And you as well. Have you thought over what I asked? Jo and Ellen need someplace to stay until we know what Heavens plans are.”

“We already do. We do have some spies among them, for safety reasons mostly. Heaven’s official current stance is not to get involved with any of Lucifer’s activities on Earth nor oppose anyone in her service. Of course it’s more complicated than that,” Samandriel said with a sigh.

“What do you mean?”

“That is Michael’s official position, but neither Raphael nor Gabriel have come forward in support of it. Heaven has already been split into countless factions, and the reality of the matter is this will do nothing to help. Balthazar has already started reporting increased signs miraculous births.”

“There are angels who are falling?” Castiel asked, astounded.

“When faced with the question of whether or not to kill their brothers or spend life as a human, some will pick the latter. But that doesn’t matter, what does is that we will take in the Harvelles on one condition.”

It seems Samandriel was learning the art of negotiation. Castiel rather wished that wasn’t the case. There was something to be said for naiveté, and that was that it was easy to take advantage of.

“That doesn’t sound promising.”

“Please join us, Castiel. We need to stick together in times like these. We need to take a stand.”

“Well, I need to get Claire back as soon as I can, and I don’t have time to dick around in a place where most people won’t even want me. Just because you think highly of me, doesn’t mean everyone else does. And even if they accepted me, would they take in Dean or Sam or Jesse? If you haven’t noticed, angels aren’t particularly tolerant as a general rule.”

“I’ll admit, convincing some of them of humanity’s worth was challenging, but they are learning. And yes, we would take you in. All of you. That’s the point Castiel,” Samandriel insisted. “These separations between Heaven and Hell, this conflict and violence, they are the root cause of all our problems. We fight the monsters to protect humanity, but someday we need to address the deeper problem that the monsters behave the way they do because we do not allow for them to be anything but monsters.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Isn’t your Dean proof a demon can be reasoned with? Can grow attachments? Can do good?”

“I suppose when he’s not cutting off heads for fun.”

“That’s not funny, brother.”

“I’m not laughing.”

Samandriel nodded but Castiel could see he was still determined.

“If we helped you find and summon Lucifer, and then free Claire of her, would you stay with us?”

It was a lot more firepower than Castiel had originally expected to be chasing after Lucifer with and he would be a fool not to at least consider it. He thought it through and made his decision.

“Fine. If you help me free Claire, we’ll stay with you.”

*****************

Jesse had insisted he should be there when they summoned Lucifer. Angelic branding had been carved into stone where she would appear, and there was a deep furrow that the holy oil had been poured into. Even though it looked like enough oil to burn for a couple of days, Cas had said that they would need to work their plan in the space of about ten minutes. All in all, Jesse didn’t really like the odds, but if he got to see Claire again, then that at least was worth it.

The other angels were necessary to try to compel Lucifer’s presence, and were hidden in surrounding rooms so Lucifer wouldn’t learn their identities. Only Castiel, Dean, Sam, and Jesse were in the actual room. Gabriel made a last minute appearance when Jesse’s stress levels started spiking, and he looked about as apprehensive as the rest of them, which just added to the sense that what they were about to do was probably a very bad idea.

“So, who’s phoning Lucy officially?” Gabriel asked. “Can I do the honors?”

Castiel nodded hesitantly and Gabriel set about the summoning spell. Lucifer could try to deny it, but Gabriel had a feeling that if she had wanted to see Michael, she would want to see Gabriel too.

“Nothing’s happening,” Dean pointed out unhelpfully. Gabriel flexed his fingers and Dean’s lung collapsed. The demon gasped for air for a second before fixing it with a pointed glare. The small distraction had everyone but Jesse miss Claire’s sudden appearance in the middle of the circle, so he was the one who lit the holy oil. Lucifer looked around bemused, not in the least threatened by what she saw.

“Gabriel. You… rang?” Lucifer asked, straying towards the edges of her boundaries. “Really, I would have liked to talk to you under better conditions.”

“Yeah, well you’re wearing the body of my kid’s girlfriend, so… any awkwardness is really on you. I mean our family was never normal, but this takes fucked up to new extremes.”

Lucifer nodded, now very slowly pacing the inside of the ring that encircled her. The flames both lit up her face and pulled it into deep shadow, exaggerating her features. Jesse stared at her a moment before taking a step closer, shrugging off Cas’ cautioning hand.

“Claire?” he asked. Lucifer ignored him. “Claire, I know you’re still in there. If you can hear me, please I need you to come back to me. All you have to do is say no and you can expel her. Please, Claire, I need you to fight through whatever she’s doing. I need you to-“

Lucifer finally turned to look at Jesse. She wasn’t stupid, and knew that he posed no actual threat, not because Claire didn’t love him but because she was so determined not to let Lucifer further in that she had walled herself off from the angel entirely. She had no concept of what was going on currently, though if she did, Lucifer had more than one argument up her sleeve to keep her vessel, who had turned out to be surprisingly strong and able to contain her.

“Why would you think Claire would want to come back?” she asked bluntly. “I mean think about it, she finally gets to rest. No more fear, no more pain. Being a vessel, it can provide you with a sense of peace. Claire’s never had that. Not since that one,” Lucifer paused nodding toward Cas. “got her dad blown to little bits. She’s just had to make due with substitutes. Almost parents. Almost friends.”

Jesse ignored the implications. Claire had loved him. That much he was certain of, and nobody could take that from him.

“Claire,” Jesse insisted, trying somehow to break through. Lucifer sighed and decided to lay it all on the table, because it was clear that these weren’t the give up and go home types. Sure, she could kill them all in a few minutes when she’d finished disintegrating the holy oil that kept her inside, but she was for the most part trying not to kill angels at this point. Besides, with Gabriel there, the fight would be a lot more even than she would really like.

“Let me explain this to you all in words you can understand,” Lucifer said slowly. “I am the only thing currently keeping Juliet here alive. So if you don’t want him to drop dead, you should leave me alone. Is that understood?”

Jesse realized at that point Lucifer must have access to some of Claire’s memories because that was the only way she would know Dean’s mocking nickname for him. The anger at the intrusion had him lunging forward, but he was stopped by Gabriel, suspended in air for a moment, before he was pulled back. Lucifer watched him, and then continued.

“And if that doesn’t convince you, well, let’s just say Romeo is in pretty good condition right now, and I’d hate to see the mess she might become if I wasn’t so careful.”

“What are you saying?” asked Castiel when the silence had already stretched too long and everybody knew what she meant.

“Summon me again and I burn her out.”

It was only a few seconds later that the holy fire was extinguished and Lucifer disappeared.

*****************

Jo could tell they’d failed by the looks on their faces, and the way Castiel wandered off by himself immediately. She felt the pull to follow him and did, if only for something to do. She walked after him as he wandered about a quarter mile away from where the angels had made camp. She watched as he fell to his knees and bent his head, hands clasped in front of him in a gesture so human and familiar for a moment she couldn’t breathe.

“Father, please,” he said. “Please keep her safe.”

Castiel stayed that way a long time. Jo sat down crossed leg in front of him, and when he finally opened his eyes, he jumped when he saw her. She waited a second until he’d sat down again, cross legged in an unconscious imitation of her. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d copied when he’d been uncertain of what to do.

“You look shitty.”

Way to be nice, Jo.

“Yes, well, I feel shitty, so I guess that’s appropriate,” Castiel answered. “I don’t want to sound rude Jo, but what is it you want?”

Jo shrugged, leaning back on her arms and looking up at the sky bracketed by branches from the surrounding trees.

“Is it bad that seeing you so upset makes me feel better?” she asked. “That the fact that maybe you get it, it makes it not hurt quite so…”

“But it won’t bring him back,” Castiel interrupted. Jo nodded, because it was true. Nothing would bring him back.

“No, it won’t.”

And there it was, that insurmountable obstacle between them. Adam’s death was always present. It got to the point Jo felt watched and uncomfortable, and started glancing over her shoulder, almost expecting to see his ghost somewhere, staring at her in judgment.

“You look kind of shitty, too,” said Cas eventually. It caught a laugh before Jo schooled her expression into a tight smirk.

“Jesus, it’s like I didn’t teach you manners.”

“Oh no, I remember some of our conversations. I’m still very good at knocking before going into a room.”

“Well, as long as one good thing came out of this all of this crap.”

“You’re alive. That’s two good things.”

Jo looked down. She wasn’t always so sure about that.

They ended up walking back to the main area where angels were gathered together and as they did, Jo noticed a kind of bulge in one of Castiel’s pockets. She picked it out of curiosity, and stumbled a step when she realized it was some form of amphetamine. She narrowed her gaze at the back of the angel’s head and then walked off on her own fuming.

Of course it was none of her business if Cas did drugs. They probably didn’t even hurt him that badly, or he wouldn’t be doing them. Would he? Jo had seen a couple of hunters who couldn’t hack it waste away on their poison of choice, and it just made her more angry to think that Castiel would do the same.

“You know it’s your fault, right?”

Jo had her gun out of its holster and pointed at the demon before she remembered it was Dean and put it away, trying to keep her adrenaline from spiking more than it already had.

“Wear a bell.”

“Get better ears,” said Dean. “Anyway, you do know you’re the reason he does stuff like that?”

He nodded towards the bottle in her hands. She looked at the label again before addressing the wild accusation.

“I never showed him any of this shit.”

“No,” Dean agreed, eyes locked on her and expression torn between something that wasn’t quite anger or sadness. It shifted back apathy before she could nail down the emotion. “But you were the one who convinced him to cut ties with his family and then cut him out of your life when it didn’t work out for you.”

“He killed Adam.”

“So you’ve said. Do you know what that does to a person though?”

Jo waited for Dean to continue, at once curious and very much not wanting to hear what he had to say.

“His entire existence, Castiel was surrounded by angels he shared a common goal with. He was never alone, never by himself, never without people who loved him. And then he gives it up, but it’s okay, because he still has you and Adam and Ellen. And then he has no one.”

“So I’m responsible for his choices then?” asked Jo. Dean shook his head.

“No. I’m just trying to get you to understand why Cas is the way he is. After he died that first time, he realized there was nobody who wanted him anymore. So he went looking for someone who would want him. Take a couple of the pills you have in your hand with other people and suddenly strangers are your best friends. Read a couple of minds, and you’ll find someone who will hold you after a one night stand and for a little while you won’t feel so far away from everyone else. It’s gotten better, since he met me and Sam and Claire, but take away one of the people he holds on to, and he thinks maybe stuff like that will make him feel better.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you need to decide exactly where you stand with him,” said Dean, a note of threat in his voice. “He can’t stand to lose much more right now, and he needs all the real friends he can get.”

“Why would he need me? He still has you, doesn’t he?”

Dean flicked his eyes black.

“And what makes you think I wasn’t just another distraction to fill the time?” he asked. He sounded bitter and heartbroken, and Jo can’t remember the old Dean Winchester ever having spoken like he was so wrapped up in someone it hurt. “Here’s the thing, Jo. I remember your type. Daddy issues, tough as nails, and just this side of suicidal. He fits.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Jo muttered, not wanting to remember the little crush she’d nursed on Dean back in the day. “If you want to play this game, then you know what? I remember your type, too. Emotionally vulnerable women. ‘He’ doesn’t really fit.”

Dean shrugged.

“Right, because hunters are such accepting people. Real join hands and sing kumbaya crowd. I had reasons for not running my mouth about thinking Harry looked just as good as Sally, if you get what I’m saying.”

“Fair enough,” Jo conceded. She still hadn’t quite figured out Dean’s game here. “What are you saying here?”

“I’m saying that if you want him, you better fucking take care of him. You and me, we know how to look out for ourselves. Cas doesn’t.”

Jo collected each of the disparate threads of the conversation and pieced it all together until it made a kind of sense. She stared at Dean in disbelief.

“What, you want me to take him off your hands?”

“The fact is, I’m no good for him. And I see the way you look at him. And the way he…”

Dean swallowed around the rest of that sentence, and Jo stared at him until she was sure he was paying real good attention.

“Listen up, Dean Winchester,” she said. “I am not a puzzle piece to solve your fucking problems. Maybe I’m just fucked up enough to have fallen for the guy who killed my brother and maybe he’s just confused enough to feel something back, that doesn’t make me the spare love interest you can shove him at when shit gets hard. Christ, they can torture the decency out of you, but not the fear, huh?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh I don’t do I? Because that was the one thing about the Dean Winchester I knew that I always hated. Sure, you were charming and sweet and you cared, but whenever it got serious with anyone you backed off. It was always the wrong place or time to try anything because you didn’t mind being alone but fuck everything if you let someone get close enough that it would hurt if they left you.”

That had shut Dean up, just like Jo knew it would. She shoved the pills into his hands, hoping even as she pushed the responsibility away that he wouldn’t give them back to Cas.

“You care about him? Then you look after him. Don’t push your shit on me, I’ve got enough of my own to deal with.”

******************

Gabriel couldn’t look at Samandriel. After having been granted access to his memories and convinced of the truth of them, he’d been swallowed up with guilt. He really hadn’t believed it was possible that an operation like Naomi’s could have happened in Heaven without his knowledge. He couldn’t help but think through every decision he had made with Michael and Raphael and wonder if she had been the one to force compliance. That the initial peace after preventing the Apocalypse wasn’t a result of him doing his best to hold things together, just a result of more corruption and lies and pain.

Samandriel for what is was worth didn’t look as though he blamed him. Castiel did though. At least a little. It began to occur to Gabriel that maybe he had a lot to make up for, and maybe sticking around with the plucky but stupid rogue angels that wanted world peace would be a start to that.

“I know what Lucifer’s planning to do,” said Gabriel, interrupting the strategy meeting. He hadn’t been sure before, whether to share what Michael had said, but now he knew he had to. “He’s going to free the Darkness so that She can help him find God.”

You could probably hear a pin drop on the forest floor in the silence that produced.

“What?” asked Barachiel, the first one to really get how very bad that was.

“Yeah, I thought it sounded crazy too. The good news is we have the key to stop that from happening. Bad news is he’s got black eyes and is unpredictable as all get out, so…”

“Well, shit,” said Samandriel, pretty much speaking for the assembled group. Gabriel nodded his agreement. Well, shit, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, the title totally makes sense.


	22. All's Fair in Love and LARPing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't guessed already that Charlie's back... Charlie's back.

Dean had figured out Castiel was keeping something from him, since the angel refused to meet his eyes when he talked about whatever the angels were all planning. Gabriel likewise dodged his questions, and was less than forthcoming to Jesse and Sam as well.

Or the fact that he and Sam and Jesse were being sent on small cases while the angels fucked around trying to plan. Jo was in on these “strategy meetings”, but she wasn’t exactly keen on speaking with Dean either. He’d ask her what was going on outright, but he was still kind of pissed at her. Joke was on all of them, though. They weren’t as sneaky as they thought they were, and Dean had figured out within a week the gist of the problem. Lucifer wanted to let out some big scary thing to kick his dad in the balls, and Dean was somehow the key to doing it. Sure they hadn’t said it like that, but that was pretty much what it all amounted to.

He probably could have told them that he knew what they were trying to keep secret from him, but he wasn’t going to. Cas’ lack of trust in him was doing nothing to put him in a sharing and caring mood either. So it was attack the small hunts with everything he had and then wait around bored while the angels sat on their asses talking everything over.

The only problem was the lack of access to any kind of release was starting to get to him. Samandriel’s crew was sticking to uninhabited woodsy areas, and they had a distinct lack of violent and gory video games to keep him from wanting to kill everything in sight. The angels could tell too. Most kept their distance from him, and glared at him when they thought he wasn’t looking. If he wasn’t impossible to kill, he had a feeling a couple of them would have had a go at him at some point, Cas be damned.

Then again, it wasn’t like a lot of them had that high an opinion of Cas in the first place.

Hannah, Samandriel, and Gabriel were the only ones Dean hadn’t overheard saying something nasty about Castiel. Most of the others didn’t actively hate him- quite a few even respected him- but that didn’t stop them from seeing many of Castiel’s actions in a negative light. Or complaining about him and his choice in companions.

The funny thing was, there was a quiet minority among them that Dean had heard whispering amongst themselves that thought Castiel would make a better leader than Samandriel. It wasn’t because they liked him though. It was because they figured that when shit hit the fan Cas would fight his way out and Samandriel wouldn’t. That was thing about nonviolent types. They didn’t, well… get violent.

The most recent case they’d been sent on was a ways away and Dean had elected to drive it, despite being told repeatedly that the car he’d been driving since he stole it was flashy and not at all subtle. He wasn’t a subtle guy, and he’d missed driving. Sure he could get anywhere in the blink of an eye, but it just wasn’t the same as the old days with Claire and Jesse whispering in the backseat and Sam asking him annoying questions as they took the long way to their next hunt. Sure, Claire was gone now, and Jesse stared sullenly out the window, and getting the old Sam was kind of a crapshoot these days, but at least the music was the same. Jo had asked to come along on this one, since she’d put the case together, so she was in the back with Jesse, trying to draw out some conversation every once in a while.

Okay, so it was a long and not very fun drive, but at least Dean hadn’t scooped out anyone’s eye with a spoon.

“Sam, you’ve got the details on the case?” Dean asked as he parked at Biggerson’s so he could grab his three car companions some food. He considered stealing it for a second, but figured it wouldn’t be worth the lecture he’d get. Besides, stealing from people that made less than minimum wage was less than appealing. Dean waited for his brother to answer before turning off the engine.

“Well-“

“LARPing deaths,” Jo interrupted. “I did put the case together, remember?”

“Oh, you’re talking to me now? That’s great.”

Dean cut the engine and got out of the car. Jo followed him.

“Stay in the car, I’ll be out in a second.”

“You always get my coffee wrong,” said Jo, sticking behind him. Dean remembered when he’d been alive it had been kind of a running joke between the two of them. Jo liked a shit ton of cream and sugar in her coffee, so Dean would always get her coffee black. He was surprised she still remembered.

The got into line behind what Dean suspected was the usual morning crowd, trying to pick up their coffees to go before work. It would probably be about fifteen minutes of waiting in line before they got to order.

“So,” Dean started, unable to help himself. “Are you talking to me again?”

“I don’t know. Are you still a dick?”

“Are you?”

Jo sighed and started tapping her foot impatiently. She very clearly didn’t want to be having this conversation.

“You know, Jo, what I said-“

“I haven’t changed my mind. I’m here because we need to stop Lucifer. I can’t have Castiel in my life in the long term, and if you were ever my friend, Dean, you would respect that.”

“I was just going to say I was trying to look out for him.”

“No, you were trying to look out for yourself. Just the same as I am. Cas hurts people. He doesn’t mean to, but he does.”

“Trust me, Jo. I’m not the one that got hurt. Not really.”

That caught Jo’s attention slightly, and almost unconsciously her eyes flickered to the arm that held the mark before she went back to scanning the Biggerson’s menu for the umpteenth time. Dean was pretty sure that after a life on the road she’d memorized it, so it was a safe bet that she was just trying to keep her eyes busy.

“You all know I’m not stupid right?” Dean asked. Jo didn’t say anything. “What is this darkness thing anyway? The angels seem spooked.”

“Not big on trust are you?” Jo asked instead of answering his questions. “I have to wonder how hard it is to eavesdrop on angels.”

“Not as hard as you’d think. Oh, and about trust, let me think… Do I trust Cas? Sure. Most of the time. Do I trust his asshole brothers? That would be a no. And if you’re the hunter I remember then you don’t trust them either.”

“Of course I don’t,” Jo scoffed. “Still better to be in the know,

“So tell me what’s happening. Whatever they’re so concerned I’ll do, I can’t guarantee I won’t do it if I don’t even know what it is.”

“And I can guarantee you will do it if I tell you, so I think I won’t.”

“Oh, because you know me so well, Jo Harvelle.”

“You’re a sarcastic asshole that’s been through hell. Do you think there’s anybody who knows you better?”

Well, she had a point.

“Well, that’s true. Hell is… hell is hell.”

“That about sums it up,” Jo confirmed, her eyes going hard and posture tightening slightly. Dean wondered how long it was before she got pulled out. He’d heard mutterings of something going on, but mostly Alistair liked to keep his workers busy, and Dean had talent. Pain was a language he not only spoke fluently but eloquently. On the surface, away from the rack, he’d barely touched what he could do. The only real torture he’d put anyone through since his hell days was the two angels who’d killed Cas. Everyone else had just been scratching the itch on his arm and keeping in practice with a knife.

“Did you like it?” Dean asked. Jo didn’t answer, happy to step forward and start ordering her coffee instead of facing down that question. It was answer enough for Dean. He grabbed his coffee and a couple of breakfast sandwiches for Jo, Sam, and Jesse. Jo was walking quickly back to the car and safety from anymore questions. Dean kept pace with her easily.

“How long did it take?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Thirty years for me. Thirty years before I picked up a knife and then so many more years after.”

Jo stopped suddenly and then ran the other direction toward a trash can. She leaned over it and puked. As soon as she stopped she took a deep breath, wiped off her mouth, and straightened herself out. Her glare dared Dean to say anything about it. He almost didn’t.

“That bad, huh?”

“Do you ever hear them screaming?” Jo asked. Dean shook his head. “I do.”

“You know, guilt won’t do you any favors. So you tortured a few downtrodden souls. The world will keep spinning.”

“If guilt is all I have to do to pay for what I did down there, I’ll pay that damn price. I deserve worse.”

“Really? What do I deserve then?”

“A bullet to the head.”

“If it makes you feel better. It won’t do anything though.”

“Yeah, I know. But you aren’t Dean Winchester anymore. You just aren’t. I don’t care what Bobby says, or that Cas likes you, or that you have the same memories he did. That you get to walk around and ruin a good guy like that makes me sick. If he could see what you turned into, he’d kill you himself.”

That shouldn’t have hurt. Dean knew what Jo thought of him, of course he did. Hunters and demons were enemies by natural law. It made sense that he’d be especially offensive to her, considering they’d once been on the same side.

“The Dean Winchester you knew was a sanctimonious prick who wouldn’t know reality if someone shoved it down his throat. You think we’re the real evil here, sweetheart? The angels were pretty gungho about murdering the entire world in a pissing match. But they’re from Heaven, so it must be okay, right? We’re just different sides of the same sandwich and humanity is the shit shoved between. You and me, we’ve seen hell, but have you seen a kid forced to murder his parents? Child soldiers? Have you seen men and women who hunt each other for fun? I got fucked up by a creepy guy with a knife, what’s humanity’s excuse? Demons aren’t evil. We’re a mirror. We’re all of your crap that you shove under the carpet and pretend doesn’t exist. You think you learned to like causing pain in hell Joanna Beth? It was always there. Always. Hell just cuts the strings you use to keep yourself in check. You are not better than me.”

It took a long time for Jo to answer that, but eventually she did.

“I’m still trying to be better. To do good. You gave up. That’s the difference between you and me. That’s why you have black eyes and I don’t. I’m not saying I’m stronger than you, or that I wouldn’t have turned eventually. But I am better than you. I found light at the end of the tunnel.”

“I think you mean you found Cas.”

“Call it what you want. I got better. You didn’t.”

And with that Jo climbed her way into the car, slamming the door behind her. Dean got into the driver’s seat and noticed how both Sam and Jesse were very carefully pretending they hadn’t heard anything.

Yeah, this was going to be a really long drive.

****************

Jo and Dean ended up interviewing the police officers that had discovered the bodies of dead LARPers. Jo had already made a connection they hadn’t figured out yet, which was that there were previous incidents in which LARPers were seriously hurt but not actually killed. It was Sam that had figured out there was some kind of tattoo connecting each of the victims. Right now they were suspecting some kind of cult activity, but figured hitting up the cops before crashing the place would be a good idea.

The cops were stumped of course. One of their suspects for one of the murders had ended up dead by what looked like hemlock poisoning while locked in his cell. One of the victims had had his head hacked off by some sort of sword but they couldn’t seem to find the actual murder weapon. It was all a little bit over the cop’s heads.

After confirming what they’d already put together for the case, Jo and Dean made their exit as gracefully as possible before someone could look them up and figure out they weren’t the real FBI. Like the real FBI actually cared about cases like this.

“You ever wonder if the actual FBI takes credit for the cases we solve?” Dean asked Jo. She snorted before seeming to remember that she hated Dean on principle.

“Probably. Jackasses.”

Jo and Dean headed back to the car and drove out to the LARPing grounds to meet up with Sam and Jesse only to discover they had failed abysmally at actually getting in.

“Apparently you need to have registered. Two weeks ago,” Sam muttered. “Jesse said it would draw more attention than it was worth to kill the guy who wanted to report us for trying to sneak in.”

Jesse took offense at that.

“Yes, I said that after you told me that ‘killing people is wrong’ was not enough of a good reason not to.”

“And it was a convincing argument,” Sam said, patting Jesse on the shoulder as though to mollify him. “I miss Claire. She got me.”

“Sam,” Dean hissed, watching as Jesse’s expression fell. “How many fucking times has Cas explained empathy to you?”

“According to my notes, seven times. Without Claire to help verify though-“

“Just shut up about Claire, okay?” Dean insisted. Sam’s eyes went to Jesse and he looked as though he were about to open his mouth again, but then he shut it.

“Okay.”

Dean blinked in surprise. It was still Sam sans soul in charge, he was pretty sure. But the way he’d given up so easily? That Jesse’s mental state had affected him at all. It was strange. Jo didn’t seem to notice. Then again, she hadn’t really understood the two separate personalities thing when they explained it to her. As far as she was concerned, Sam was weird and that was all she needed to know about him. He was a good hunter, and that’s what really counted in a fight.

“So how are we going to get in then?”

Dean sighed and motioned towards the car.

“Research?” he asked them. Jo sighed and nodded, snagging shotgun before Sam could make his way there. They headed to the local library and started looking into the actual LARPing and any possible loopholes they could take advantage of to get in. Surprisingly they only had to open up and watch an introductory video before Dean found their way in.

As the video opened with Renaissance sounding flute music, the image panned over the different areas the LARPing was held in and then cut to several interviews with people who were involved. The second interview caught Dean’s attention, mostly because of exactly who was being interviewed.

“I think I can get us in,” he said, pausing the video. Charlie Bradbury’s smiling face filled the screen, frozen in the middle of her sentence and completely unaware that the supernatural was about to come bulldozing back into her life.

******************

Jo and Dean were the ones to sneak in since Sam and Jesse had already blown their cover trying to get in earlier. It was tough dodging curious glances and keeping away from the event’s security, but with a few hunter’s and demon’s tricks they managed. They made it all the way to the queen’s tent, where they decided to stay until Charlie got back from wherever she was. They didn’t have to wait long until she walked in, sweating slightly from some kind of exertion and a foam wrapped “sword” held aloft in her hand. She saw Jo first and winked, trying to think of something appropriately smooth to say. It wasn’t uncommon for women to sometimes show up looking to make out, and Charlie had no problem with that, even if they didn’t adhere to dress code. She faltered when she noticed Dean.

“Shit,” she said, fumbling for her holy water.

“Hey Charlie, I was just here to-“

Dean cut off with a splutter as she splashed him. The water sizzled off his skin. Charlie opened her mouth to scream but found a hand firmly pressed over it.

“I thought you said she didn’t know about you?” asked Jo, trying to keep Charlie in her grasp and grunting slightly at an elbow to the stomach. “Quit squirming, we’re not going to hurt you. You got more holy water? Pour it on me, I’m clean.”

Charlie did just that. Nothing. She stopped struggling and Jo let her loose, keeping a close eye on her in case she decided to scream. Charlie grabbed a silver spoon from a side table and pressed it against Jo’s skin. Nothing happened and Charlie seemed to relax slightly, though she still kept her eyes on Dean.

“You’re a demon,” she said. “A real life, honest to God demon.”

“Well, yeah,” Dean said. “But that doesn’t mean you need to throw holy water at me.”

Charlie laughed, putting down her foam sword and sitting as far away from Jo and Dean as she could get.

“I’m crazy. That’s what this is, I went insane. You both probably don’t even exist. You’re just figments of my imagination. Those books can not be true. I mean, they just can’t, right?” Charlie muttered to herself. Dean mostly thought he should let her get everything out before asking her for a favor, but Jo seemed to take a keen interest in the words.

“What books?” she asked. Charlie didn’t answer at first, still debating her sanity. “What. Books.”

The repetition caught Charlie’s attention and she pulled out a book that read “Phantom Traveler” across the cover. Jo swore under her breath, and Dean took the book to see what it was. He flipped through and was surprised to see Jo and Adam’s names appearing on the pages with a case he’d heard them talk about back when he’d been alive.

“What is this?” he asked her.

“The Harvelle gospels,” Jo said, contempt clear in her voice. “Poorly written by a prophet of the Lord.”

“Someone wrote a book about you and Adam?” Dean asked. “Why would you tell him all this stuff?”

“You’re Jo?” Charlie asked, eyes going wide. Jo and Dean ignored her.

Dean was still scanning the book and was thinking that there were some seriously personal details included that he was sure Jo herself would not have used in her retelling of the story. She didn’t like to let people into her head, and prided herself on being hard to read sometimes.

“We didn’t tell him anything. Angels gave him visions and he wrote them down. And then sold our life story to the highest bidder. Sorry, ‘publisher’. And now, random wannabes like her can just read them and-“

“Hey!” Charlie cut in. “First of all, I am not a wannabe anything.”

“You’re wearing armor,” Jo said pointedly. Charlie narrowed her eyes. “and pretending to be a queen. Meanwhile a bunch of your asshole friends are dying, and you’re what exactly? Oh yeah, reading about the personal lives of the people who are going to save your ass.”

Charlie went a little red as she opened up her mouth to argue back.

“Sorry for freaking out after a demon drops in on my life, plays video games with me for a couple of weeks and then up and disappears with the King of Hell to save someone from being tortured. Kind of throws you through a couple of loops. I needed to know what was happening and try to keep myself safe. Those books were my only connection to how to protect myself against demons. It’s not like I read the books specifically to invade your privacy.”

“Too bad, you did anyway. My life is not for public consumption. Especially not by people like you.”

Before they could argue more, Dean cut in.

“Jo, usually when I want to ask someone for a favor I don’t antagonize them,” Dean pointed out. Jo huffed and crossed her arms, waiting for Dean to continue. “Look, Charlie we’re here because people are dying and we think we can stop it. We can’t investigate if the people here are constantly trying to kick us out. Think you could rig us up with something?”

Dean’s request confused Charlie and she was quick to voice why.

“Why do you care whether people are dying?”

“Well, I don’t,” Dean admitted. “Like, at all. See the thing is I go a little stir crazy if I don’t stab something every couple of days. This is an angel approved opportunity to stab something. If it makes you feel better, Jo actually cares about the victims.”

Charlie noted the angel approved part and remembered the fact that Dean had seemed very interested in keeping Castiel from getting tortured the last time she’d seen him. That definitely hadn’t been part of the books. Well, dealing with demons had been, but angels and demons actually caring about each other?

“Look, Red, are you going to help or not?” Jo asked. Charlie glanced between the two of them. “There are four of us that need to work this case, and your friends aren’t letting us do our jobs.”

“I ran away from the last place I lived because I don’t want to be a part of this. I didn’t want to know that there are monsters and demons and angels out there. I still don’t.”

“Yeah, well tough shit,” Jo said, taking a step forward so she could more effectively intimidate Charlie. “People are dying, and if you don’t help us, that’s on you. You can dress up and play hero all you want, that doesn’t make you one. For once in your life, you can actually do something useful. Maybe take the opportunity.”

It was nasty and mean, but it worked. Charlie took a few deep breaths and then lifted her chin, forcing a fake smile on her face.

“I guess I could use another knight. And a handmaiden,” she said, looking at Jo with a kind of malicious intent. Dean elbowed the hunter before she could say something derogatory and cause Charlie to change her mind. “I’m assuming the two guys who were trying to get in before were friends of yours? I’ll set them up with the shadow orcs. They’ve been losing people to injuries recently.”

“Great,” Jo said through gritted teeth. Charlie broadened her fake smile and went over to a container that had what looked like spare clothes in it. She passed a set of chain mail, shirt, and pants to both Dean and Jo.

“If you want to fit in, you should really look the part. I’ll let you two have some privacy.”

Jo looked at the clothes she’d been given as though they were going to bite her.

“I think I just might kill her.”

“See, you say stuff like that and then you act like I’m the bad guy.”

“Shut up and put on your Halloween costume, Dean.”

*******************

Sam and Jesse would later admit that perhaps they got a little distracted by attempting to fit in with the shadow orcs to actually work on the case much.

In all fairness to them, as new members of the shadow orc army, they both pulled patrol duty and were instructed to throw bean bags at anybody from the other armies that invaded their land. In theory, this was a fantastic cover for checking at the area. In actual practice, it turned into the two of them competing to see who could take down the most enemy combatants with bean bags. By the time they’d finished patrol, they’d gotten a text from Dean saying that he was pretty sure whoever was doing the spells was on Charlie’s side since when analyzing overall who had gotten hurt, it was mostly threats from the other team and cheaters from Charlie’s. Jesse and Sam then snuck away from the people who were supposed to be watching them to stake out a couple of people that were decked out in the red clothes of Charlie’s soldiers.

“This is useless,” Sam complained after the fifth person they’d followed around had yet to do anything incriminating. “We don’t even know what we’re supposed to be looking for.”

“Well, the tattoo was some kind of Celtic symbol.”

“Yeah, because that helps. We usually do more research before just leaping into a case like this,” said Sam. “Well, Dean doesn’t, but I do. And it’s even more important now, since you’re human too.”

“What do you mean? I’ve been hunting like you and Claire without using anything extra for months.”

“Well sure, but before it was always an option for you to take off the bracelets that were holding your powers back. You even did a couple of times. Now, if you’re really in a life or death situation, you don’t have that option.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” said Jesse. It was true though, now that he did think about it. His entire life he’d lived without much fear because nothing short of an archangel could take him down. And now… now he was just as vulnerable as everybody else. It was an uncomfortable thing to be aware of.

“I’m not surprised. The only thing you think about most of the time is getting Claire back. You hardly ever smile anymore.”

Jesse sighed and went back to watching one of Charlie’s soldiers chatting with his friend about the next day’s battle. It was true that he’d thought through a million different hair brained schemes to get Claire back. He’d almost pulled the trigger on a couple of them too. The only thing that had always stopped him was Lucifer’s threats of burning Claire out of her body. If there was hope he would get Claire back someday, he needed to hold onto it.

“I never thought it would hurt,” Jesse said a while later. “It’s stupid. I know the life we lead is dangerous, but I don’t think it ever occurred to me that anything bad would happen to either of us.”

“Teenagers often have feelings of invincibility. It’s a well known phenomenon.”

Jesse kind of wished Sam 1 would be replaced by Sam 2 for a little while.

“That, uh, that doesn’t make me feel better.”

They trudged on for a while following someone new who was acting suspiciously shady. He wandered deeper into the woods, farther from other players than most had strayed.

“I miss her too,” said Sam after a while. Jesse looked up and was surprised to still see the calculating expression that marked the original personality was in place. “I think we all do. Dean and Cas are pretending nothing happened. You’re always off by yourself. I’m stuck reviewing my own notes.”

Jesse smiled a little despite himself.

“I’m sure that’s what Claire will regret the most when this is all over.”

“She better.”

The wove between the trees trying to keep the person they were following in view. They had to speed up slightly, but it appeared he still hadn’t noticed them.

“Sam, can I ask you a question?”

“Isn’t that my catchphrase?”

“It’s just… you said you missed Claire. I didn’t know you could miss people. I mean, you’re not the other Sam right now, right?”

Sam faltered in his walking for a few steps before continuing as if nothing had happened.

“It’s probably just bleed through. We talk sometimes.”

“You and the other Sam talk?”

“Sometimes.”

Sam was getting slightly defensive, and Jesse had a feeling that he should probably stop asking questions soon. Then again, if something was wrong with Sam, he felt like he should know about it so he could help. He liked both Sams in general, and even if the soulless one didn’t exactly have ‘friends’, he still was a part of the little family they had all built up.

“You know, it seemed for a while that he was more in charge than you were, but recently you’ve been the one we’re talking to most of the time.”

“He’s upset,” said Sam. “It’s easier if I deal with the hard stuff right now. I’m stronger than he is.”

“You’re protecting him,” Jesse realized out loud. Sam didn’t acknowledge it. Little moments ever since Sam had gotten his soul back seemed to slip into place as Jesse realized that even the soulless version of Sam hadn’t quite been himself in some time either. Perhaps it was what he said and there was bleed through. Or maybe as soon as the soul had come in emotions had begun to make themselves a part of Sam’s original personality, too, slowly but surely making themselves known. “I didn’t know that was how it worked.”

“Be quiet a second,” said Sam. Jesse shut up instantly, knowing that the only way Sam would actually shut down this line of questioning is if something to do with the case came up. “Do you hear something?”

There was a kind of quiet wind that hadn’t been there a second ago. It was subtle but enough to kick in hunter instincts. Sam hadn’t survived on luck alone all these years after all. He and Jesse scanned the area for a few moments spinning in a slow circle before stopping dead at the sight in front of them. A tall cloaked figure with a skeletal face was standing there, staring them down.

“I’m going to guess that’s not a LARPer,” said Sam, somewhat unnecessarily.

The creature raised its arms and both hunters were knocked out instantly.

*****************

Jo did not like Charlie.

Perhaps it was her optimism. Or the fact that she’d read the Supernatural series and had whatever access Chuck had allowed her into Jo’s head. Maybe it was just the fact that when confronted with the world of demons and angels she’d turned tail and ran. Whatever it was, it was there, and Dean leaving them to team up together was a terrible idea. He’d insisted he could search better on his own for Jesse and Sam who were still missing, but Jo would rather be dragged around via demon teleportation than listen to Charlie chatter on about the different areas they were investigating and stopping to question people in the game. Jo would have taken over, but apparently she was “unpleasant and intimidating”. Well, if people weren’t so uncooperative, Jo wouldn’t have to be unpleasant now, would she?

They had started searching the forest when Charlie finally addressed the tension between the two of them.

“Not that it matters, because you seem kind of temperamental in the books, but do you have an actual reason to hate me or are you just doing it for fun?”

“If you’ve read the books, then I’m pretty sure you know I’m not really into sharing.”

“Oh no, that was abundantly clear.”

“Good.”

Charlie and Jo continued on in silence for a little while longer before Jo caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye. She turned and for a moment it was like a light was moving deeper into the forest. Charlie’s hand fell onto her arm and clutched it.

“What was that?” Charlie whispered, voice between fear and a kind of awe. “I know I’m not really an expert on these things, but that didn’t look like something a monster would do.”

“You’d be surprised,” Jo muttered. She started walking forward, figuring heading toward the crazy shit was their best option for finding Sam and Jesse. “Let’s follow the lights and see where they go.”

Every hundred steps or so there was another flare of beautiful soft light leading them further into the forest. Jo was on guard, not because she had a bad feeling about them but because she didn’t. It wasn’t outside the realms of possibility that there was a monster that could affect you to the point you didn’t feel threatened by it, and it was important to keep on your toes. Charlie on the other hand seemed a little lost to the adventure of it. As long as she wasn’t doing anything that could get them killed, Jo figured she’d let Charlie have her fun. Just because she didn’t like her didn’t mean she had to ruin everything for her. A life touched by any kind of magic would do that soon enough anyway.

The lights led them to a tent. It was way too deep in the forest to be a part of the LARPing according to Charlie, and it was also suspiciously bright inside, almost like someone had lit a campfire under it. Jo and Charlie approached it cautiously. Once they were close enough, they exchanged glances and then Jo lifted up the flap and they burst inside, Charlie raising her foam covered sword while Jo pulled out her gun.

Jesse and Sam were tied up and unconscious in the corner, and before them stood a beautiful woman who was staring at them.

“Holy shit you’re pretty,” said Charlie. She paused. “Did I just say that out loud?”

Jo lifted her gun and pointed it straight at the woman’s head.

“What are you and what did you do to my friends over there?”

The woman stared at the gun and then turned to Charlie, eyes widening in an anxious kind of way. Charlie got the feeling she wasn’t afraid of the gun so much as not being listened to, so she reached a hand out and put it on Jo’s arm, lowering it down.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jo hissed at her.

“One thing I learned from those books you’re so upset I read is that shooting things first and then asking questions doesn’t do you any favors. And not every supernatural thing is a monster, so maybe cool it with action hero stuff for a second and let’s actually listen to what she has to say,” said Charlie. She took a few steps forward before Jo could stop her and took one of the woman’s hands. “My name is Charlie. I’m kind of a queen around here. Not really. That was stupid, ignore me. Um… what’s your name?”

“Gilda,” she said, a shy smile on her face. “I am sorry about your friends. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“But you are anyway,” said Jo, eyes narrowed. “People are dead because of you.”

“Jo, cool it!” said Charlie. “Why don’t you tell us what happened, Gilda?”

Gilda nodded slowly, eyes flicking to Jo for a second before focusing back in on Charlie.

“I was summoned here by a spell and bound to another’s service. What I do, I do because I can’t control my own actions. I would never hurt anyone, you must believe me, please.”

“We do,” Charlie said, stressing the we. “Jo?”

Jo looked like she was about to say something unhelpful but a wide eyed look imploring her not to by Charlie was enough to get her to huffily nod.

“I’m so sorry for all of this.”

Charlie touched Gilda’s face to lift it up slightly.

“Hey, don’t say that. This is not your fault. Whoever bound you, it’s that asshole’s fault, got it? Can you tell us who they are?”

Gilda’s face paled as she pointed up a finger behind Jo.

“Him.”

*****************

Dean had just appeared in the main part of the camp the different players had set up, hoping that Sam and Jesse were having fun somewhere and had just forgotten to look at their phones in the past hour. Right, as if he were that lucky. Dean walked past each tent, trying to see if they were around, but he didn’t catch sight of anyone.

“Young man, what are you looking for?” asked a woman in front of one of the tents. Dean was surprised at her appearance. She was older than most of the other LARPers, and sat in front of what looked like hex bags. Dean didn’t like the look of it.

“None of your business.”

“A knight on a quest? Seems like my business. Maybe I could help. How about you tell me your name and I’ll see what I can do for you?”

“Lancelot,” said Dean sarcastically. “And I think I’ll be going.”

“Dean, it’s not nice to lie to an old friend,” the woman sighed. “Why don’t you sit down and we’ll talk. And don’t pull your knife on me, I don’t want everyone panicking.”

Dean stared at her, a sudden familiarity stopping him from leaving.

“Old friend?”

“The Men of Letters used to talk to me every once in a while when they needed help,” she answered pleasantly. “But not in a long while. You were young.”

It was enough. Dean remembered now a psychic that was around sometimes. Missouri Moseley. They'd never really talked, though and he definitely wouldn’t qualify her as a friend.

“What’s a psychic doing at the kingdom of Moondoor?” Dean asked, taking a cautious seat across from her. Missouri offered him some kind of dried fruit which he declined with barely veiled disgust. Dried fruit was a perversion of both food and nature. Missouri snorted.

“Everybody needs their hobbies. And these apricots are delicious, if you’d bother to try one,” she said, popping one into her mouth. Dean had forgotten she could do that.

“Think you could keep out of my head?”

“I’m afraid that’s not how it works,” she said. She swallowed her apricot and looked at him, squinting and then sighing. “How are you, Dean?”

“I’m fine. Just looking for my friends.”

“They’ll be fine,” Missouri said. “No need to worry, child. They are being saved as we speak. Tell me, how are you?”

“Why do you care? I mean,” Dean paused, flashing his eyes black. “Our kind of people aren’t exactly friends.”

“Well, perhaps that is something that should change. Besides, you’re not the type to hurt someone without reason. Or at least not anymore. Your head’s an interesting place, Lancelot. Interesting you chose to give me that name.”

“The first knight I could think of? Why is that interesting?”

“You’re not as dumb as you pretend to be, so don’t think you can pull that with me,” said Missouri. “You said Lancelot because you were feeling sorry for yourself. Want to tell me about your Guinevere?”

“I should be going.”

“I’ll take that as a no. You know it’s refreshing to find someone who doesn’t think they’re the hero of the story. Or at least thinks they’re not anymore. No, you think you’re the one who ruins it for everybody else.”

“You know, if I wanted to talk to a shrink, I would leave Sam alone with a book on psychology for a couple of hours.”

“But you’re still sitting here anyway,” Missouri pointed out. “Me, I was minding my own business when your angsty ass walked past me, but I get the feeling you needed someone to talk to. A little advice. I can be good at that. For instance, I think perhaps you should consider that your angel can make decisions on his own.”

“Cas has trouble seeing things clearly.”

“I can hear all the thoughts swirling around in your head, and trying to make sure he doesn’t end up with you is very much a part of them. Now, boy, I want you to listen to me. I know self hatred and pain. Everybody has a way into this life, and mine wasn’t pretty. And I also know that it does jack shit to help you or the people you love.”

Dean didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing. He leaned back and stared at Missouri, trying to figure out where she would go next. She sighed again, rearranging her hex bags and thinking.

“You are lost, boy. And not the brightest bulb.”

“That seems rude.”

“You’ve been through hell, I think you can take it,” said Missouri. “Do you know what you need?”

“I got a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

“You need to go home.”

There were flashes of images attached to that word. Little pieces of different parts of his life that didn’t fit neatly together and never had. Tying down that word into one place or person was impossible, and what was more Dean didn’t really want to try.

“And where’s that exactly?”

“You’ll figure it out. I think when the time comes, you’ll figure it out.”

“That’s really helpful, thanks.”

“Don’t be snooty with me, boy. I got no problems pulling out the holy water,” Missouri threatened. Her eyes softened after a moment though and she went thoughtful. “Here’s a tip. Start at the beginning and work your way to the answer. I got a feeling you’re a lot bigger piece in all of this than you give yourself credit for. And don’t let it go to your head, but I got faith that when the time comes you’ll do the right thing.”

“What time?”

“It’s just a feeling. I’m a psychic, not a fortune teller. But good luck to you, because there’s a shit storm coming, that much I know.”

“Well, this has been fun, but I need to find my friends now.”

Missouri nodded and smiled at him. She didn’t flinch when he disappeared, just went back to watching her fellow LARPers walk through the camp. Hey, everybody needed their hobbies.

****************

Jo whirled around to see one of the LARPing guys smiling creepily at them all. She lifted up her gun again and pointed it at him.

“Stay right there.”

“Gilda, want to take care of that for me?”

The gun disappeared from Jo’s hands. Fuck.

“I may be unarmed kid, but don’t think for a second that means I’m not dangerous.”

“I don’t know if you guys aren’t getting this but I have a fairy on my side,” said the guy. Jo stepped in front of Charlie and Gilda when he started walking forward. “I came here to see if these two had woken up yet so I could see why they were following me. You know, you have all put me under a lot of pressure. I just wanted to win the battle tomorrow and be declared king, but all of you had to go snooping.”

“And you wonder why I don’t like LARPers,” Jo muttered so only Charlie can hear.

“Well, we’re not all crazy people like him,” she whispered back. She raised her voice to talk with Gerry, trying to go with the understanding act that had worked with Gilda. “Look, Gerry, I know that things can get tough, but this is just a game. You don’t need to do all of this. You can stop.”

“My name is Boltar!” he shouted. Charlie flinched back and Jo lifted up her arms in a defensive pose in case he came at them. “And I am just doing what needs to be done.”

“Killing people needed to be done. In what fucking world?” asked Jo.

“They were cheating.”

“Oh and enslaving a fairy is totally on the up and up? Jesus Christ, someone fucked you up somewhere along the line.”

Something went cold in Gerry’s eyes and he looked at Gilda.

“Help me take care of this,” he said, pulling out a foam covered sword that resembled Charlie’s. Gilda made a distressed sound, but with a flick of her fingers the foam sword transformed into shining steel, and he pointed it toward Jo. “Step away from my Queen and I will spare you. It’s not a maiden’s place to fight.”

“What’s the sword for then?” Jo said, not moving an inch. Charlie pressed her foam sword into Jo’s hands and Jo took it.

“To take care of the shadow orcs that were following me.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“Then you force my hand.”

Jo stepped forward and dodged the swing of Gerry’s sword, ducking under and hitting his stomach. He let out a grunt of pain and redirected the sword, which she rolled out of the way of. She leapt to a standing position and swung the foam covered sword at his head, hitting him hard enough to make him stumble. She took a step back as he swung the sword blindly and cut open her arm.

“Fuck!” she shouted, holding the wound closed for a second. He smiled at her and lunged, but she dodged again, just in time. Charlie watched with ever increasing anxiety as Jo dropped the foam weapon in favor of trying to keep ahead of Gerry’s attacks on her.

“Gilda, I need a real weapon for Jo,” said Charlie. “Can you do what you did for Gerry for her?”

Gilda shook her head frantically, but then a thought seemed to occur to her. She snapped her fingers and a rock appeared with the hilt of a sword sticking out.

“I can’t perform acts of magic that are not entirely good unless compelled to,” she explained. “But this sword, it can only be pulled out by the good of heart and brave of soul. Bringing it here is a good act.”

“Yeah, that works. You’re a genius,” Charlie said, leaning forward to quickly kiss Gilda on the cheek. She looked out to see Jo still dodging around increasingly frustrated attacks. “Jo!”

“Kinda busy here,” Jo said, avoiding another swing only to take a punch to the face that had her staggering back into the wall. Charlie watched in horror as Gerry punched her again in the stomach and she doubled over. Without thinking she pulled the sword from the rock and shouted again.

“Jo!”

She threw it and Jo looked up just in time to catch it and stop the death blow Gerry had been about to deliver. She twisted the sword out of his hand and placed the tip of the blade under his chin.

“Gilda, sweetie,” she said out loud. “Want to tell me a loophole in your terms of service?”

“Don’t-“ Gerry cut off when the blade pressed into his neck enough to draw blood.

“I’d shut up if I were you,” Jo said. “Gilda?”

“Destroy the book he has. It’s contains the spell he used.”

“Okay, Gerry. Why don’t you take that book out and you get to live.”

Unadulterated fear pierced Gerry’s eyes as he slowly took out the book. Jo didn’t move the sword.

“Drop it,” she commanded. Gerry did so. “Charlie, want to do the honors?”

Charlie stepped forward carefully and picked up Gerry’s fallen sword and stabbed it through the book, destroying it.

“I feel kind of like Harry Potter right now.”

“Gilda is the spell broken?” Jo asked, rolling her eyes at Charlie’s comment. Gilda nodded. “Good.”

She dropped the sword from Gerry’s neck and punched him hard enough to knock him out. Then she kicked him in the stomach for good measure.

“I think you got him,” said Charlie.

“Just making sure.”

Jo took out a ziptie and pulled it tight around his wrists in case he woke up before going to untie Sam and Jesse who were now conscious since Gilda’s magic was no longer keeping them under. They looked around the room confused.

“What happened?” asked Jesse.

“We won. That’s all that really matters,” said Jo.

Charlie stayed by Gilda’s side to make sure she was okay.

“You’re sure you’re free now?” she asked. Gilda nodded.

“And I have you to thank for that. I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

Charlie’s head filled up with a couple of possibilities. Gilda’s earnest look of thanks turned into a kind of shy smile and Charlie was wondering if maybe fairies could read minds a little bit. Gilda stepped up onto her toes and pecked her on the lips and then turned her head down to press a lingering kiss to her on the forehead.

“It wouldn’t work out between us,” said Gilda. “I have to return home now. But thank you for saving me. I’ll take the man who has done this with me, he needs to answer for his crimes. I doubt I’ll see you again, but I’ll never forget you.”

And with that Gilda and Gerry disappeared. Jo had watched what had happened and figured she would just be grateful she didn’t have to figure out what to do with the asshole, even if she usually wasn’t a fan of supernatural creatures taking justice into their own hands. He had started it after all, and Charlie had been right. Gilda had obviously wanted no part in what had happened. It brought Jo back to what Dean had said about humanity being the one with the problem, and maybe in this particular case he had been right.

“Any chance she’ll call me?” Charlie wondered out loud, drawing Jo’s attention back to the present. She managed a bit of a laugh and Charlie smiled back at her, looking a little wary.

“Stick to humans, Red. It’s a lot less painful,” said Jo. By the look in Charlie’s eyes, Jo got the feeling she knew just what Jo meant by that. At least she had the grace not to mention it. “You know, you did good for a wannabe.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“No really. I mean it. You were right about Gilda,” said Jo. She paused and forced herself to say the next part. “and I’m sorry for judging you.”

The wariness left Charlie’s eyes and she walked up to Jo and hugged her.

“You’re forgiven.”

“That wasn’t an invitation to hug,” said Jo, trying to extricate herself. Charlie laughed and stepped back. Jesse and Sam mostly were just confused.

“I think we should go find Dean,” said Sam. Everyone else agreed.

*****************

To everyone’s surprise, Charlie didn’t say goodbye when they all piled into the car and instead piled inside along with them. When Dean and Jo looked at her questioningly she didn’t say anything.

“Charlie, what are you doing?” asked Dean.

“Coming with you guys.”

“That’s not happening,” said Jo.

“Why not?” asked Charlie. “You could use me. I’m good with computers, I have great aim, and I’ve already picked up a shit ton of lore from reading those books.”

“Because you have a normal life and you are going to go back to it,” said Dean. Charlie lifted up her chin in defiance and her eyes were locked on Jo’s when she said the next thing.

“No, I can’t. Jo, you were right. I can’t know about all of this stuff and know I could help and just pretend it doesn’t exist. That’s not the kind of person I want to be. I’m not saying I’m not scared, I am terrified. But if people are dying and I can help stop that, what kind of person would I be not to?”

“You’re not a hunter,” said Jo.

“But I could be.”

“Listen to me, Red. Get out of the car, and pretend none of this ever happened. Because the second you get involved in this, you sign yourself up for an early grave. What we do? That isn’t your fight.”

“It is now,” Charlie insisted. “You’re not going to change my mind.”

Sudden fear of finding Charlie dead from trying to hunt without really knowing how had Jo on the verge of shouting. Lucky for her, Dean figured out something to keep her out of danger before Jo could make a fool of herself.

“Listen, Charlie, you said you were good with computers?”

“Yeah.”

“I think I know a place that could take you on and use you. The Men of Letters, were they in the books?”

“A little.”

“They help collect data on the supernatural and recently they’ve been helping angels try to keep down monster and demon populations. They’re having a hard time right now, and someone who could help them keep track of their members or track down people in hiding would be really helpful right now.”

Charlie considered this for a second. Dean knew she could tell that she was being pushed into something that would involve zero actual fighting, but also that she was sincere about wanting to help first and foremost. After a few seconds, she nodded.

“Okay.”

Jo relaxed back into her seat, and Dean started up the car.

“Looks like we’re headed to Kansas.”

*****************

A bedraggled looking Eileen answered the door, dark circles under her eyes making it plain as day that sleep was a hard thing for her to come by recently. She let them in without another word and walked over to Garth who was busy pouring over a book while on the phone with an angel who by the sound of it was fighting off some kind of water spirit. Eventually he hung up and saw that people were there.

“What are y’all doing here?”

Dean explained the situation as best as he could to them and explained it again when Rufus was called in. Another dark haired girl made an appearance and listened to Dean’s attempts to convince them to take Charlie on with a couple of curious glances towards Charlie. Rufus asked Charlie a couple of questions before agreeing that she could stay and help. As far as Dean could tell, they weren’t really in a position to say no to an extra pair of hands.

Once that was done, Dean asked a couple of question of Rufus to see if anyone had heard news of where his father might be. Rufus shook his head, and Dean wondered if maybe he should try to figure that out sometime. After that, Dean and Jo knew they had to leave, so they got up to go, but each got stuck in their own conversations.

“Dean,” said Eileen. “Is Sam still with you?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I just… I worry about him sometimes. Castiel told me that he inherited a lot from my soul. I know myself well enough to realize I am not the easiest person to be.”

“No, Sam’s good,” Dean said after a second. “I don’t always think he sees it, but I think he likes it better this way. As long as he doesn’t think about it. But Eileen, if nothing else, you’re obviously strong. Whatever weird feng shui soul swap thing you guys had? He got your strength too. I think it helps.”

Meanwhile, Jo was stopped by Charlie who seemed to have actually lost her ability to think for a second.

“Shit, I can’t believe I almost forgot,” she almost shouted. “You haven't read the books. You don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?” asked Jo. Charlie stared at her and a massive grin broke out on her face.

“Adam’s alive.”

******************

Castiel was surprised when he heard Jo praying to him, but he went without question. When he saw her, he noticed something changed about her, as though a great weight had been lifted from her. When he appeared, she walked up to him handed him a book, and pointed toward the page. Castiel was surprised by the odd behavior but looked down to read the words that were written.

…and so in recognition of his sacrifice, God assembled the pieces and made Adam as he had made the first Adam, and placed him back on the Earth, and thought to himself that this was good. It is important to recognize that this is an ending, but also to know that a good story… well that never really ends.

Castiel stared at the page. Comprehension failed him and it took Jo saying it out loud for him to fully understand exactly what the words meant.

“He’s alive. Cas, he’s still alive.”

Cas dropped the book and hugged Jo, for a moment sharing the unexpected joy of it. She hugged him back, laughing through unshed tears, and they stayed like that until someone else cleared their throat. Cas looked up and saw Dean watching them and all of a sudden it felt very much like he should not be hugging Jo. Dean didn’t say anything about it though, just sat on the hood of his car and looked at the two of them thoughtfully for a moment before speaking.

“Jo wants you to help her look for him. I think you should do it.”

“And you, Jesse and Sam will return to Samandriel?” Castiel asked. Dean shook his head.

“Sam and Jesse are going to drive back. I have a place to be.”

Cas frowned at that.

“But you are coming back, right?”

“I’m not turning myself in to Lucifer, don’t worry babe,” Dean said, a note of annoyance in his voice. “If that’s why you’re acting like this.”

Castiel momentarily closed his eyes. He should have known lying to Dean wouldn’t keep him from finding out the truth, but the other angels had been so insistent Dean couldn’t know that he was the key to Lucifer’s plans. He tried to express with what he said next that he trusted Dean. To somehow convey that just because he’d kept a secret didn’t mean he actually thought Dean would in any way betray them.

“I didn’t think you were. I asked you if you were coming back.”

“I don’t know,” said Dean, his eyes sliding over to Jo. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

And with that he disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading :)


	23. All Roads Lead to Home

Beginnings are easy. Going back to the source, the very first home Dean knew wasn’t difficult once he thought about it. There wasn’t much thought involved in coming up with his particular conclusion. No, the trouble wasn’t with figuring out what Missouri had meant when she said to start searching at the beginning.

The only problem was actually gathering up the courage to knock on the damn door.

When Dean said he didn’t care about people as a general rule, that was true. It wasn’t even malicious half the time, he simply didn’t care if most people lived or died. The longer he’d been on the surface, the more exceptions to that particular rule there had been. But this particular exception had been there through out his time in hell, and in trying not to hurt her he had told himself he would never see her again.

“C’mon,” he muttered to himself, still staring at the door. “You survived millennia of Alistair, you can handle your own mom.”

He still didn’t actually open the door. It was just as he was deciding he would come back later that it opened and a woman started to walk out before stopping right in front of him. She smiled curiously at him.

“Can I help you?” she asked pleasantly. Dean did his best not to swallow his tongue. It was a few seconds before he managed to force himself to speak.

“Uh, yeah. Mrs.- Mrs. Winchester, right?” he said. She nodded looking a little wary and Dean realized he would have to cut off any kind of suspicion she might have or she’d figure out he was a demon and she’d never talk to him. “I’m an old friend of Dean’s.”

The suspicion disappeared, and a kind of sad smile made it’s way on to her face.

“Really?” she asked. “Were you, well, in his line of work?”

Dean nodded and remembered the lie he’d come up with. It was one his mom would believe and wouldn’t be contradicted since Jo had told him the man who’s identity he was assuming had died only a few months after Dean had.

“In a way. I was up at the Roadhouse. Name’s Ash,” said Dean, reaching out a hand to shake. Katie took it warmly.

“Oh yes. Dean used to talk about you. You look different than I would have thought. My son mentioned a mullet.”

Dean laughed out a choked sound and nodded, forgetting how straight forward his mom could be.

“Yeah, well things change I guess. I just… I wanted to remember him, you know? I… I’ve been a little off recently, and I guess you could say that when he was alive, that was the last time I felt human.”

Katie’s expression changed to one of concern, and she opened up her door suddenly and pointed inside.

“I have to go check in on my neighbor’s kids, but why don’t you stay a while? I’ll make you a cup of coffee alright?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Katie narrowed her eyes and shook her finger at him.

“Don’t go disappearing now. I know how you hunters can be. And you aren’t leaving until I give the say so, got it?”

With that she slammed the door shut and Dean sat down hard on the old couch that hadn’t changed since he was a kid. He stared at the pictures on the wall across from him and stood up to get a closer look. There was a picture of his mom at the hospital where she had worked before she and his dad got married. After that she’d only volunteered her time, since the Men of Letters had enough money to pay their members well, and she’d wanted to be at home with Dean. There was a family picture from when Dean was a kid, with his mom and dad both smiling at the camera. There were a couple of pictures of friends and family, and one Dean had sent her that was taken at the Roadhouse of him and Jo a couple of months before he died. He remembered asking Bobby to take the picture and not explaining why it was so important at the time. He hadn’t told any of them about the deal until the very end when the hellhounds had come howling. Surprise.

He stood there until he heard the door open again and Katie walked back in. She smiled when she saw Dean looking at the picture.

“Yeah, that’s the last picture I have of my boy,” she said with a sigh. “Sent it to me out of the blue. It hurt to look at for a long time after, but you adjust to the loss. It becomes a part of you, you know? And he looks happy, there. Was he happy?”

“Yeah,” said Dean, forcing a smile. “He sure was. Happiest kid around. Not a care in the world.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. He had troubles, I know. His father and I, we didn’t always make it easy on him. And when I got sick, he took that really hard. But he had a lot of love, and I think sometimes that made up for it. Smile like that,” Katie said, putting a finger on the photograph. “I’m glad he had that.”

She seemed to come back to herself after a moment and ushered Dean into the kitchen, placing some kind of leftovers in front of him as she started up the coffee machine. Dean ate it and waited for the coffee, still not knowing if he was supposed to learn some indefinable something by being here, or if he was just digging at something that didn’t belong to him anymore.

“So what do you do, now?” Dean asked. “I mean, you’re not really part of the whole hunting game.”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t have the stomach for it. Actually, I used to be a nurse, I don’t know if Dean ever told you. I’ve got a job at a school nearby, now. It’s been really lovely, actually.”

“That’s good. That’s great. Really… really good for you.”

Katie poured out the coffee and placed one mug in front of him, taking the other and sitting down across from him at the kitchen table.

“Are you alright?” she asked after they’d both sipped at their coffee. Dean shrugged, another quick flash of a grin to keep off questions. Katie sighed, and looked back down at her coffee. “You don’t seem alright to me.”

“Was he a good person?” Dean asked. “Your son, what do you think? Where do you think he is right now?”

Katie leaned back in surprise. A kind of coldness took over her as she looked at him now.

“Dean was a good man.”

“Was he? I mean, how much did you even really know about him?”

“Everything I needed to know. I am not naive, I know there are things he kept from me. The things hunters face, the people they lose, I know it takes a toll. But no matter what, I know that Dean did his best. And that’s really all you can ask.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… can we just forget I said anything?”

“Okay,” said Katie hesitantly. “You want more coffee?”

“No. I think I have to go. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t be here. I’m sorry.”

Dean tried to make a break for it but he was called back after a moment by Katie Winchester’s sharp voice. He stopped, and had the feeling he looked like someone waiting to be chastised, but instead Katie just stared at him a moment until her entire face softened.

“Come here, kid,” she said after a moment. Dean took a confused step forward and was surprised when Katie hugged him, squeezing tight for a moment before patting his shoulders and letting go. “You looked like you could use it.”

“I-“

“Whatever it is you’re looking for, I hope you find it. And thank you, for keeping him alive in memory at least. Whatever bad ones you have of him, try to let them go. There’s no use hanging on to old grievances.”

Dean nodded and was about to go when he decided that he owed his mom a proper goodbye, since he’d never really gotten around to it the first time.

“You know, he really loved you. So much.”

“I know,” said Katie. “He was always kind of a mama’s boy.”

Dean chuckled.

“Have a good life, you hear me? Have a really great life. Just, please do that for me,” he said. And yeah, that would do. He opened the front door and shut it behind him, leaning back against it with a deep breath. Then he walked out of the neighborhood a little ways before heading to his next destination.

****************

“And you’re sure Charlie said he’d be here?” Jo muttered for the fifteenth time. “Because we’ve been staking this place out for two hours.”

“From the cameras she hacked into and appropriate aging markers added to the photograph you provided her with, the person with the highest percentage match on face recognition-“

“You don’t even know what half those words mean,” Jo complained, staring around the square and growing more and more agitated. “Why would he even be in Canada? Nobody likes Canada.”

Castiel sighed and went back to scanning faces, looking for some sign of Adam.

“He’s warded, just like you. I can’t find him without seeing him. So I suppose you and I are just going to have to do this the old fashioned way.”

Jo didn’t look as though she were particularly happy about that but went back to looking for Adam. She and Cas were sat sipping overpriced coffee at some cafe in downtown Toronto. According to Charlie, a face that matched Adam’s walked by a camera on this street with enough regularity that it was a good place to stake him out. Jo didn’t really want to draw attention to the fact she was looking for him, so she had’t asked around to see if anyone recognized him yet.

Jo ended up ordering lunch and more coffee after they’d spent a few more hours waiting for Adam to show up. Cas watched her eat and she wondered for a moment if he wanted to eat something too. She offered up half her sandwich and watched as he picked it apart and then ate the bread.

“Taste like anything?”

“It never does.”

“But you eat it anyway.”

“You offered,” Cas pointed out. They went back to looking. Once the day started to turn into evening they both figured Adam, if the person that had shown up on Charlie’s video was actually Adam, wasn’t going to be passing by. Charlie had said the time stamps for the videos were usually early morning, but they had stuck it out just in case. At this point however, Jo figured the best thing she could do is get a good night’s sleep and start again the next day.

She and Cas headed over to the nearest, cheapest place they could find and booked a room. Cas confirmed that nothing that was going to kill Jo was living in the bed, and she was quick to roll under them. Unfortunately the day of doing nothing wasn’t doing wonders for her sleep schedule and she found herself staying awake listening to the documentary Cas was watching, sitting in the desk side chair. After it ended, he turned the television off and sat there. A few minutes into this, Jo sat up and leaned back against the head board.

“So, are we going to talk about it?” she asked after a while.

“Talk about what?”

“Dean.”

“Oh,” said Cas. He didn’t bother looking at her. “I hadn’t planned to.”

“I kind of think we should.”

“It’s complicated,” said Cas, as though that explained anything. Jo didn’t even bother responding, just crossed her arms and waited for her irritation to get the point across. “Let’s focus on getting Adam back.”

“He thinks there’s something going on between the two of us,” Jo pointed out. Cas didn’t say anything. “He’s kind of right.”

“Jo-“

“I think there’s a door here that neither of us ever really closed. And we need to. When we find Adam, I’m not sure if I want to be around you anymore.”

Cas sighed and looked down.

“That’s fair.”

“It’s not, actually. But I think it might be the right thing for both of us. We don’t make each other happy. And that’s the least of our issues.”

“You think Dean does make me happy?”

“I have no fucking clue. I mean, the other day he asked me to take you from him so he wouldn’t hurt you, and I don’t know what that shit is about, but it sounds fucked up just for the record. You have other people that make you happy, though. I mean Claire definitely did. I think Jesse still does. Balthazar and Samandriel do. You’ve got people, Cas, that’s all I’m saying,” Jo paused for a second, leaning her head back and staring at the ceiling. “I did a shitty job teaching you how to be human.”

“No,” Cas disagreed, though he couldn’t seem to come up with any proof to validate that statement. Jo shrugged, not wanting to start any kind of fight about it. Cas seemed lost in thought for a few moments, before clearing his throat in a way that was slightly self conscious. “Sometimes he does.”

“Does what?”

“Make me happy.”

Jo watched Cas stare into space for a while after that before laying back on her side, trying to force herself to sleep. It didn’t work.

****************

Sam hadn’t worked a case alone in months. It was incredibly odd in a way he hadn’t been expecting. For one thing, he’d always preferred working alone before. The other members of the Campbell family had had the habit of second guessing him and acting disgusted at his actions. Of course, he was kind of disgusted by some of the things he’d done now, but that was just his brand new soul side talking.

This particular case wasn’t much of a thriller though. It was only a salt and burn, the most classic of all cases to find. The ghost wasn’t even much of a story. One of the local girls had been killed in a car crash after her boyfriend admitted to cheating on her, and she’d been killing anyone that vaguely matched his description ever since. Sam did not match the description, so she hadn’t even gone after him until he’d started burning the bones, and by then it was too late.

On some level Sam knew he should go back to the angels and wait for another case. For one thing, he had said he would and he had a feeling he would be safer not wandering around by himself with angels and demons working for Lucifer on the loose and wanting information. However, he also was aware that a lot of the reasons he had first decided to join up with Cas and Dean no longer applied. He wasn’t learning new things, he wasn’t hunting… he was just standing still. If he didn’t have a damn soul now, he’d probably disappear while he had the chance. Unfortunately it wasn’t that simple anymore.

For one thing, if he tried to leave, the other Sam might stop him. And for another there was resistance to the idea even in his own side of his head. Sure, the angels ignored him and his questions, and Dean and Cas were being weird with each other, and Jesse was in mourning, but… What was he even talking about? He should leave. He really should. There was nothing rational keeping him from doing so.

Sam stopped Dean’s car off the side of the gas station at the edge of town and filled the tank, unsure whether he was headed back to the angel’s latest encampment or off to Nowhere, USA. He shuffled into the convenience store, grabbing provisions with the efficiency he had mastered in his many years of hunting. Fruit, water, energy bars, coffee, and he was set. He bought his goods and set them in the car, leaning against it while he finished his coffee. He shielded his face against the sun as he thought over his decision.

“Now, I know it can’t be.”

Fuck.

Sam threw out his coffee and opened his door turning to face Christian Campbell who was standing right next to the car. Christian took hold of the door to stop Sam from closing it.

“But it is. Sam. Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” said Sam, evaluating how much of a threat Christian would be to him. “I’ve been hunting on my own.”

“You and me both know that ain’t true,” Christian said, his eyes angry and threatening. “Last I heard you were hanging out with a demon. Now, we all thought that couldn’t be true, but…”

Sam knew what was coming and didn’t hesitate to hit his cousin in the face with the car door, stunning him enough that Sam could sit in the front seat and slam the door shut. He was about to start the car when something pierced the skin of his back and sizzled with electricity. He fell forward and his head crashed into the steering wheel. Gwen was in the back seat.

“Sorry Sam,” she said, and she even managed to look it despite having taken him down without pausing for a second. “But we all think it’s about time you came home.”

Christian had the door open the next second and tied Sam’s hands behind his back while his muscles were still weak from having been tasered.

“Move over to passenger side. Try something and Gwen will take care of you, got it?”

“Yeah, I got it,” said Sam, holding no bars on bitterness.

Christian shrugged and started the car. Sam kind of wished Dean was there to throw a bitch fit about a non-approved person driving the car he’d stolen.

“Don’t give me that look Sam. We’re just doing what’s best for you. Campbells stick together, don’t you remember?”

Sam snorted and looked the other way. There would be no escaping until they’d stopped driving, so for the moment he was just going to start planning exactly how he would get out of this. He was not going back to being the freak of the Campbell family, especially not now that he could actually feel how much they had all hated him.

****************

Gabriel was brilliant. And he was allowed to think that about himself. All of his brothers were conceited assholes, so maybe the world could cut him a little slack for being able to appreciate his own talents.

In this case, evidence of Gabriel’s brilliance was that he had figured out just the way to solve the most pressing issue they were all facing. Namely, Lucifer was in a strong vessel and completely unconcerned about anyone hunting her down. The only people with the ability who cared enough wouldn’t hurt her because of the body she was in, and that was a major problem for the world. Also, Jesse. More importantly Jesse. What? Gabriel had said he was brilliant, not a fucking a saint.

Jesse had been coming up with plans to save Claire for ages, but for all the imagination the kid had he lacked the ruthlessness and understanding of how Lucifer thought that Gabriel had. Jesse’s plans all centered on getting through to Claire, and he was right that that was the way to do it. He was just wrong on how exactly he should get through. Jesse seemed to think that if he used the right words, he might be able to reach her. That wasn’t the case. Lucifer would have her locked down tight, would have fed her lies to keep her from casting the angel out. It wasn’t enough to plead with her. They were going to have to scare her into kicking Lucy out, and Gabriel knew just how to do it.

The problem was that Jesse couldn’t know about it before hand since he was a shit actor, and Gabriel’s plan wasn’t exactly nice. To either him or Claire. Still, if it got her back, Gabriel knew he’d be forgiven. And Jesse would know he didn’t mean it when the time came. He had to.

The start of the plan was simple. Ask Jesse to go with him to Nevada, where Lucifer had been rumored to be spending her time recently. Call on Lucifer and temporarily hold her with holy fire just as they had the first time. This time however, the fire wouldn’t be necessary for long, because Gabriel had a plan and he knew just how it was all going to play out.

Jesse waited alongside Gabriel staring nervously at the holy oil on the floor.

“And you’re sure Lucifer won’t hurt her.”

“Positive. Trust me, kiddo. You do trust me, don’t you?”

Jesse nodded and then went back to staring resolutely at the place where Lucifer would arrive. It was a few minutes before she did so, looking slightly annoyed. Jesse threw down the match and Lucifer rolled her eyes, hands on hips in a pose so unlike anything Claire would make it was impossible not to see her as someone entirely different.

“Haven’t we already been through this song and dance?” she said glancing between Gabriel and Jesse. “And less fire power this time too, huh? You know, I wasn’t lying about burning her out.”

“Of course you were,” Gabriel scoffed. “The fact that she’s still alive in there is the only thing keeping certain people from trying to kill you. You’re not going to give up that advantage. I know when you’re bluffing. You don’t think we can get her to eject you, anyway.”

Lucifer observed her brother a moment before nodding slightly, a fond smile playing at her mouth.

“I forget sometimes, little brother, how closely you always listened to me.”

“Yeah, you taught me everything I know.”

“But not everything I know,” Lucifer countered. “You really think you can outsmart me?”

“No,” answered Gabriel honestly. “But that doesn’t matter, because I know how to get Claire out, and that’s the most important thing.”

“And how would that be?” asked Lucifer. She was wary. Gabriel could be creative, and she didn’t want to be forced to find a new vessel when she was so close to finding a solution to release the Darkness. It would add unnecessary time to her plans, and she doubted she’d be able to find one as strong as Claire on short notice.

Gabriel drew out his angel blade and Lucifer raised an eyebrow, taking out her own. To her surprise, it wasn’t pointed at her. Instead Gabriel pointed it at Jesse, yanking on his arm so he was standing directly in front of Gabriel, the sword pressing into his sternum. Lucifer frowned at the confused and scared look on the boy’s face.

“You look at the boy as a son. You wouldn’t kill him.”

“Not if Claire ejects you.”

Lucifer laughed.

“I’m not stupid, brother, and neither is she. This little ploy isn’t going to work. We both know you won’t do it.”

“Why not? I killed Cas when he got inconvenient. Why not Jesse too? It’s not like he could even be useful for me anymore. Before, if I got in a jam and needed some non-angelic help, I knew I could count on him, but now? Who cares. He’s just some kid. You know me, and you know I look out for myself first, and looking out for myself right now includes you not wearing that body.”

“You love him. You wouldn’t kill him,” Lucifer countered, but Gabriel could see it. He could see the slow slip of control, Claire’s fear beginning to leak through. The only thing that was going to break through to Claire would be Jesse getting hurt, and for that very reason, Lucifer would never be stupid enough to hurt him. Lucifer couldn’t be tricked, Gabriel knew that. But Claire could. And the spell work he had integrated within the holy circle made damn sure she was listening this time.

“Oh yeah? Watch me,” Gabriel said, stabbing Jesse right through the heart. When nothing happened right away he twisted it causing Jesse to gurgle out blood in a strangled gasp. Claire’s eyes cleared and she shouted running forward just as Gabriel doused the holy fire to stop her from hurting herself. “Eject Lucifer or Jesse dies.”

He was cutting it close he knew. Soon he’d have to heal Jesse or risk actually killing him, and if he started healing him in front of Claire, her fear wouldn’t be enough to keep Lucifer at bay. Luckily, just as he was about to break down and give up the plan, Claire’s head shot upwards and bright light eked out, hesitantly as though it were fighting to reach back inside her. When the light had leaked past her lips, Claire fell in a heap to the floor and Gabriel took the knife out of Jesse’s chest and healed him as quickly as he could manage, only relaxing his grip when Jesse stopped spitting up blood.

“Kiddo, I didn’t mean a word, I swear to God,” he rushed to assure Jesse. “You okay?”

Jesse was crying again, and Gabriel thought he must have blown it. Jesse would never forgive him.

“Kiddo-“

“Thank you,” Jesse said, grabbing onto Gabriel. “You saved her. Thank you so much.”

“You’re not… mad?” asked Gabriel. Because seriously he just stabbed the closest thing he had to a kid. He was aware that wasn’t the most conventional way to win gratitude or parent of the year. “I’m pretty sure what I just did amounts to child abuse.”

“I was never in any danger,” said Jesse, smiling through his tears. “Like you said. I trust you.”

If Gabriel wasn’t totally cool and above it he might have started crying too. But he was so his eyes stayed dry, for the record.

“Glad to hear it, kiddo.”

******************

To say that Lucifer was than pleased with being ejected would be a serious understatement.

The demons in her service were quick to move around her and everyone seemed especially careful not to upset her. It just made her even more pissed off. Even the witch who had insisted that she could work through the Book of the Damned with a codex Lucifer had so kindly provided for her was trying to make the little work she’d done sound as though it were impressive. Suffice to say, Lucifer was not impressed.

“You’ve got nothing,” said Lucifer flatly, staring at the scribbles the witch had put down. “What does this even mean?”

“Well, you see the problem is the codex is actually encoded,” said Rowena. Even now that she was practically groveling, she was still so confident with herself that she stood up straight and seemed not to show any fear. In a way Lucifer even liked her for it. In another way, she was not at all happy at the witch’s assumption that she was important enough that Lucifer wouldn’t replace her if she didn’t start showing some results. “I can work the spell just fine and dandy, but I need a wee bit of help with getting the actual spell first, darling. And might I be the first to say, the new vessel suits you.”

Lucifer glared at her but decided against hurting her. Many witches these days were kids playing around with magic or old beings that thought the affairs of heaven and hell beneath them. Rowena was ambitious and keen to see wrongs against her righted, and for that reason she could still be useful where others could not be.

If anything, she was right that Krissy Chambers made an attractive vessel if not a particularly durable one. She had been easy to convince of possession, all Lucifer had had to do was find the vampire who had killed her father and kill him. That it turned out to be the man who had taken her in was of no consequence to Lucifer, and if anything the sorrow of that news had just made Krissy more keen to cut herself off from her life. She took to possession how only the severely depressed could.

“Rowena, please remember flattery gets you nowhere with me.”

“Certainly, darling, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Lucifer snorted. The witch could be entertaining at times, that much was true.

“So then, how exactly do we decode this baby and get the show on the road?”

“Well, we need someone well-versed in language and code breaking,” said Rowena, all business once more as she looked over her work. “I’m good at the former and less gifted at the latter.”

“Brother?” one of the angels voiced shyly. Lucifer turned to look, raising her eyebrow as a question. “I have an idea that may be beneficial to your cause.”

“I’m listening, Rebecca.”

“The Men of Letters are skilled in such pursuits. And I know where to find them.”

Lucifer grinned. Finally someone was suggesting something that was going to get her some progress. She supposed it paid to have a few angels who had defected from Samandriel. Her poor brother was too trusting really. Lucifer doubted he’d ever even suspected that not all the angels that followed him were willing to continue to do so after he’d let a Knight of Hell into their camp. That was the problem with angels like Samandriel. They never saw the worst in people, and so they never saw betrayal coming.

***************

If Bobby was surprised that Dean had shown up to his house he didn’t say anything about. Then again, he’d never said anything about it in the old days either, just opened his doors and offered a beer once Dean had turned eighteen. Before then he’d ask if Dean could help with something around the house or help him with a translation. He never pushed for why Dean was running from John or from the Men of Letters or whatever other problem was troubling him, just accepted him in with a quiet kind of welcome.

It was his second home. Dean had known that when he was alive.

“You going to come in?” Bobby asked. “The heat’s getting in.”

“Yeah, I’m coming. Don’t have an aneurysm old man.”

“Call me old again I’ll show you how young I am,” said Bobby. Dean walked in and Bobby kicked the door closed. Dean looked around and noticed the place was empty. He’d thought Ellen had decided to stay with Bobby until everything died down, but he wouldn’t be surprised if she’d gone back to the Roadhouse.

“Ellen run out on you?”

“She’s a stubborn woman. But she’ll be alright. Went back to that bar of hers.”

“Stubborn like her daughter,” Dean agreed. Bobby chuckled and passed Dean a beer before taking it back and replacing it with one that wasn't laced with holy water. Dean nodded his thanks and downed about half the bottle before figuring out what he wanted to say. “Bobby, why’d you leave the Men of Letters?”

Again, if Bobby was surprised he didn't show it, though he did look sad. He seemed to weigh his words before speaking them, using the time he spent drinking to gather his thoughts.

“Well, the short answer is I fell in love,” Bobby started. “The long answer is I realized I could do a lot more good actually helping people than I could collecting data and writing papers.”

Dean remembered bits of this story from other people. Rumors from when he’d been training to be a Man of Letters. It had all struck of tragedy though.

“Your wife?” he guessed. Bobby nodded tightly. “And-?”

“She died. She died and it was because I had no idea what I was doing when she got possessed. We were all so locked behind our books, the actual reality of what it was like to face down the demons we were fighting… we had no idea,” Bobby seemed to come to his senses a moment later. “No offense I guess.”

“Don’t spare my feelings, Bobby. I know I’m the bad guy. This guy I’m wearing, he was someone’s son. Someone’s friend. We both know that.”

“Yeah, I guess we do,” Bobby acknowledged. He still didn’t kick Dean out of his house. “So, got a reason for being here?”

“I am just figuring some shit out, and this was the place to be for now.”

“Any idea where you’re going next?”

Well, the next place Dean could think of was hell, and there was no way he was going back there. So instead he shook his head, and Bobby asked him if he wanted to watch a football game and he said yes. And that’s what they did.

****************

Sam was knocked out before he could begin his escape plan. He wasn’t really all that surprised. He was even less surprised with the fact he’d been tied to a chair in the room his granddad used to interrogate any monsters they ever actually managed to capture. He supposed he was enough like them now that his granddad didn’t see any difference anymore. After all, from the Campbell way of thinking, why would you spend time around a demon if you weren’t a monster.

“Rise and shine, boy,” said Samuel, looking at him. He didn’t have any torture implements, so Sam figured that was a plus. “I got a few questions about where you’ve been the past year.”

“Around,” said Sam. Samuel narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah, that ain’t gonna cut it. We’re looking for details. Specifically details that can help with the fact that Lucifer himself has been raised from Hell and you and your friends were present when it happened.”

“Herself.”

“What?”

“Lucifer herself,” Sam corrected again. Samuel’s jaw clenched and he pulled back and hit Sam with a controlled punch that had his head lolling. He could feel a bruise forming, but knew it wasn’t enough to do any real damage. Samuel didn’t want to hurt him after all. Not much, at least. “Actually, I’m not sure if angels have genders. Xemself?”

“You grew an attitude while you were away,” said Samuel. He didn’t sound impressed. “I think I liked you better before.”

“Your soulless little tool, who did the dirty work the rest of you were too noble to do?” asked Sam. “Somehow I’m not surprised. You like to think you’re a family man, but the truth is you’re just as bad as I am. Do you know what other hunters say about you? They say trying to work with you is as bad as dealing with a demon. They’re just as likely to end up dead.”

“Now I know you’re just trying to piss me off,” said Samuel. And Sam knew he was good at that. Keeping his emotions in check. Sam had wondered for a long time if he was just doing the same thing Samuel was doing, except all the time. It had taken a while to realize he just didn’t have any emotions at all.

“Is it working?”

Samuel punched him again. Same as the first, there was no fury behind it, just determination. Sam spat and stared forward, deciding to play silent until they got bored and sent him away. Somehow he doubted that was going to happen anytime soon, but it was worth a shot.

“You going to talk about your demon buddy?” asked Samuel. Sam stared at the wall and pretended not to hear him. “Alright then.”

The next blow never landed. Instead the door flung open and Mary Campbell walked in, a flurry of righteous fury.

“Dad, you lay a hand on my son, and I swear to God you won’t walk another day in your life.”

Samuel lowered his hand and turned around to face his daughter. He knew her well enough to know she’d go through on that threat.

“He won’t talk.”

“Then he won’t talk,” she said. Samuel sighed in frustration and looked as though he were about to go into another one of his lectures, and she interrupted him, impatient with his lack of concern for his grandson. “Get out. Let me talk to him.”

Samuel didn’t look happy about leaving, but he did. Sam noticed the Christian was still standing at the door watching them. She turned to look at him.

“If you’re mother was still alive, she’d kick your ass for treating Sam that way,” she said. Christian shrank away slightly from the statement, the door shutting a little as he turned. “Get out of here. Go be with your son and wife. Maybe if you try hard enough, you’ll remember what it means to be a family.”

“My son doesn’t fraternize with demons.”

“Okay, that was one time,” Sam muttered under his breath. “And I left Ruby for dead, I don’t think that counts.”

“Oh great, he’s a demon fucker too,” said Christian, picking up on Sam’s probably poorly timed joke. “You deserve mother of the god damn year.”

“Leave.”

Let’s just say Mary Campbell was scary enough that that was all it took to have Christian making as graceful an exit as he could manage without shitting himself. Mary turned back to Sam and walked up to him, cutting the ropes that kept him tied to the chair. Sam didn’t say anything.

“Are you okay?” Mary asked. Sam nodded. “Where were you, Sammy? We’ve been worried sick.”

“You’ve been worried sick,” Sam corrected. He knew now she was the only one who had ever actually cared about him. He didn’t know how he’d never realized that before. “And I was fine. I was with family actually. Isn’t that what you’ve all said was so important?”

“What do you mean?” asked Mary.

“I was with my brother. Dean Winchester. Knight of Hell. Don’t tell me you never put it together, because I know you’re smart enough, mom.”

“Oh,” said Mary. “That.”

“You always said you didn’t know who my father was,” said Sam flatly. Mary sighed.

“If your grandfather had found out, how do you think he would have reacted? He was hard enough on me when he found out I was pregnant, if he knew the guy who knocked me up was from the Men of Letters he would have… it wouldn’t have been pretty. Besides, I thought about it, when you started to get older, but Sam you were so strange. And you didn’t care. You asked because you thought it would be interesting to know, you never actually wanted to know him.”

“Did you know why?” Sam asked. Mary looked away. “You did, didn’t you?”

“There was a vodnici. It got the drop on me. I always thought I got lucky, but as you grew up, I started to suspect…”

“That I didn’t have a soul.”

“I couldn’t tell you Sam, you have to understand that.”

“No, you’re right. Letting me think I was a freak was definitely the better option.”

“You never used to care.”

“Well I do now!” Sam shouted. He felt the switch coming, the newer softer Sam taking over for him. He didn’t want the other Sam to take control, but he didn’t really have a choice at the moment. He felt his face soften, the rage drain from him. “You should have told him.”

The disturbed look on Mary’s face let Sam know that she’d recognized the switch. She reached for her holy water and splashed Sam with it. It of course did nothing.

“I’m not possessed,” said the other Sam, unnecessarily. The holy water kind of already got that point across. “We got it back. Our soul.”

“What do you mean by we, Sammy?” asked Mary, carefully. “What does that mean?”

“It’s kind of complicated,” Sam hedged. “We think it’s some form of dissociative disorder. It’s hard to tell though. Intersections of magic and science are never very clear cut. Currently we have two personalities. I’m new.”

Mary stared for a moment longer and then let her tensed and ready-to-fight-or-flee body relax.

“This never came up in any parenting books I read,” she muttered to herself. “Nice to… meet you?”

“Yeah. You too,” said Sam. “I’m glad you took care of him. No one else really did until he ran away.”

“Sam, you never really needed to be taken care of,” Mary sighed. Sam shook his head.

“No, you let him feel normal when no one else did. You tried. I think it helped when I got here. Well, that and the fact he was traveling around with a bunch of depressed people and a demon. Really, we were the most emotionally healthy person we knew for a while.”

That drew a startled laugh. Then Mary looked critical, the quick evaluating way she had of looking at a hunt taking over.

“So you were with your brother. How’d you figure out that he was-“

“John Winchester. We were trying to figure out where my soul came from. Once we found him it came out pretty fast. He wasn’t exactly subtle when he figured it out.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” said Mary. Sam shrugged. Mary bit her lip, and glanced back at the door. “Sammy, you know you’re not stuck here right? I get it if you need to leave. If its too hard to be here after all you’ve been through.”

Sam nodded. Mary tried not to look upset.

“Mom, it’s not about you okay?” he said, feeling the need to reassure her, even though this was a woman he didn’t really know. “I just, I found a place where I belonged out there. I found people who didn’t look at me like I was twisted or fucked up. I can’t go back to this.”

“Okay,” said Mary. “Just… just call every once in a while, will you? And if you need help, drop a line. And-“

“Okay, mom,” said Sam. Mary nodded to herself and then turned back to the door.

“What are the chances someone’s guarding that?” she asked him.

“One hundred percent.”

“Guess we’ll have to punch our way out. Lucky I’ve got your keys,” she said, tossing them to him. Sam caught them and fell into position behind his mother, while she opened the door and took Gwen down with a chokehold. Once Gwen was unconscious they made a run for it, and Sam took off in the car as his mom opened up the automatic gate that would have kept him in. He waved at her in the rearview mirror as he drove away. Since he didn’t know how long he’d been knocked out for, he decided to head out to Bobby’s and ask him where the next angel encampment was, since he might have missed them changing locations.

****************

Rufus was the one who answered the door. He recognized Rebecca and thought something might be wrong, so he went to the door, waving off the curious glances of the four kids who were neck deep in research and organizing. The second it was open Rebecca rushed him and four more angels appeared behind her, none of whom Rufus recognized. They crossed the threshold and teleported down to where Charlie, Dorothy, Eileen, and Garth were sitting each of them grabbing one of them. Behind Rebecca strolled a teenage girl, surveying her surroundings with an air of condescension.

“Really? This is the famous Men of Letters compound. Where all the secrets of the supernatural world are kept?” she paused, eyes sweeping the room again. “The library of Alexandria was more impressive and that burned to the ground.”

Eileen didn’t know what was happening since the girl was not facing her direction for her to read her lips. She glanced at Garth to see if he could give her any clues. He seemed as confused as she was. All she knew was that an angel was keeping her from moving from where she was stood and they were quite obviously under attack. She subtly signed for Garth to begin a spell and then counted down from three with her fingers. The two of them began to recite in their head, a skill they had practiced together once or twice. It was a risk, but if it worked the angels would let them go and they’d have a chance to escape.

“Take them to the witch,” the girl commanded after she’d wandered the room, picking up random artifacts and setting them back down in places they didn’t belong. Eileen and Garth finished their spell just before the angels tried to transport them. Both of their angels let go with a gasp of pain and Eileen kicked the one who had been holding her. Garth stabbed the one who had been holding him and then tossed her the knife in a clumsy throw. She caught it just in time to fend off a blow from the angel’s own blade and then stabbed up through her chin. The angel crumpled, wings flashing out across the floor and leaving sooty imprints in their image. Garth and Eileen turned around to see that Rufus, Charlie, and Dorothy had already been taken and the only person left was the girl. Both of them ran to the back of the room, and Eileen dropped a match on a preset line of holy fire. The girl looked at them.

“That won’t keep me out forever,” she pointed out. That was news to Eileen, but she cut her palm and drew quickly on the wall a symbol that would send the angel away. She slammed her palm down and watched as the girl disappeared with a flash of light.

“Long enough,” she said. Garth doused the flames and looked around what was supposed to be a safe haven for them. The angels would be back for them, that much they knew.

“Eileen, where do we go?” asked Garth, signing weakly as he looked at the empty chairs where they had all been sitting only minutes before. Eileen stared too and for a while she was just as lost as he was. “That was Rebecca with them. What if Samandriel’s turned on us? What do we do?”

“We go to who we can trust,” Eileen said at last. “Who Rufus trusted.”

“Bobby’s?” asked Garth. Eileen nodded and then started collecting any notes she thought she would need. Garth followed suit, copying warding onto the walls of the bunker to keep out angels and taking the key so they could make sure the door stayed locked.

“Do you think it will keep them out?” asked Eileen once they had settled in one of the cars used by the Men of Letters. Garth shrugged and signed back that it was the best they could do. Then he started the engine and they began their drive to the airport. They needed to get to Bobby’s as quickly as possible.

******************

Jo and Cas decided to stake out the same place the next day. This time it wasn’t long until they saw who they were looking for.

Adam looked… Adam looked happy. It was a surprise, and Cas suspected it was the reason why Jo didn’t approach him right away, instead insisted on following him as he went about his day. He made his way to a job, where he sat in front of a computer and typed the day away, stopping for lunch with a female coworker that Castiel suspected he was dating. He chatted with his friends and later went out for a drink with them. Jo took it all in with a face that defied description, some mixture of pride and rage and confusion.

Adam had carved himself a life here. One that it seemed didn’t include hunting. Or Jo for that matter. Castiel could see the fear in her face, the terror of rejection from her own flesh and blood. It made sense that she put off talking to him. She looked at his life with the eyes of a stranger, and it occurred to Cas that in a very real sense she was. It had been almost eleven years since she had last spoken to him. He’d grown into a man without her. In a way, it was almost as painful as if Adam were still gone, because in this scenario Adam was right there, and yet he was still as distant as if he weren’t there at all.

“Jo,” Castiel said as they followed Adam home. “If you don’t want to talk to him-”

“I do,” she interrupted. “I do, just give me a second, will ya?”

She sat at the steps of his apartment building and took four deep breaths. Cas watched her, watched the way she put herself together and stood up, strong as ever. She strode up the steps and rang the buzzer to Adam’s apartment. He’d listed himself as Adam Milligan. Despite the fact that was probably the only way to keep himself safe, it still hurt to look at.

“Who is it?” Adam asked, his voice coming out crackly through the speaker. Jo pushed down the button, but couldn’t speak. Adam repeated his question and got halfway through saying that he didn’t want to buy anything before she managed to get it out.

“Jo. Harvelle.”

There was silence. Jo let go of the button and waited. It was only about a minute later that he was down the stairs and opening the door. The two siblings stared at each other, and Castiel very much had the feeling that he was intruding. That this was a moment for a family that he had never really been a part of. Not completely.

“It really is you,” said Adam. He swallowed. She stared. Nobody moved.

“It’s good to see you, Adam,” Castiel broke in awkwardly, unable to stand the silence. Adam’s eyes shifted to him and he smiled slightly. It wasn’t without pain, and Castiel could understand why. It had been Adam’s decision to die, but he doubted seeing the person who had killed him was easy. It was something that was bound to raise conflicting emotions.

“Why didn’t you come back?” Jo managed at last. Her voice was thick. She didn’t cry. She just kept staring. “All that time we thought you were dead, why wouldn’t you come back?”

More silence. Castiel hated it.

“At first,” Adam started slowly. “I was scared. One second I was dead and the next I was alive. I didn’t know who would be after me. I didn’t know who brought me back, or if I could still make the Apocalypse happen. I thought it would be best to disappear.”

“And then?” Jo asked, sharper than before. “And then what happened? Do you have any idea what it’s been like for me? For mom?”

Adam looked down.

“If I came home, I wouldn’t be able to leave again,” he admitted softly. “I made a life for myself here, Jo. I have a job I love, friends, a girlfriend. After everything that happened I just wanted to be happy. When I knew both of you were safe, that going back wouldn’t put us on any hit lists, I thought about it a million times. Just showing up out of the blue,” Adam rubbed the palm of his hand over his eyes. “And every time I thought about it, I thought about how it would end. And it never ended with me coming back here.”

Jo nodded. It wasn’t happy.

“So what now?” she asked him. He just gave her a helpless look and waited. Castiel knew how it would go. He didn’t intervene. “You have to see mom. She has to know you’re alive.”

“Okay,” said Adam. He sounded defeated. Castiel knew Jo noticed but she didn’t say anything about it. For a moment it looked as though she might, but she didn’t. She didn’t tell her brother that he could go back to his life. She didn’t say pretend she was never there and leave knowing Adam had found something. And Adam didn’t tell her to change her mind. “Just let me pack a few things.”

“Alright,” said Jo, taking out her phone and texting her mom to meet her at Bobby’s. She hadn’t told Ellen that Adam might be alive, just in case. She knew her mother would never get over the disappointment if he wasn’t.

“And let me say a few goodbyes.”

That had Jo pausing.

“Adam, you can come back.”

“No. I can’t,” he said. “Just please let me do this alone.”

Jo and Castiel waited outside the building.

“Am I doing the wrong thing?” Jo asked at last. “I thought he’d be happy to see me. I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”

“He is happy to see you. He just knows how hunting works. And hunters that have friends still in the business never really retire. There’s always one more case,” Cas pointed out.

“Would it be better if I left him here?”

Cas had insight into Adam’s mind that Jo didn’t, but he didn’t like to use it without permission. He knew in ways Adam didn’t show that this was a choice he had always kept in the back of his head. He knew that Adam was choosing to go with Jo because he loved her and their mother more than he loved his life here. And he knew that whatever choice Adam made, it would be painful for him. There was no easy answer, and there was no right thing to do. It was funny how often that was the case.

“I think you should do Adam the favor of not trying to know what’s best for him,” Castiel said at last. “And letting him make his own decisions.”

And that, at least, was the right thing to say.

*****************

Ellen was the first to arrive at Bobby’s house. Apparently she’d gunned it from her bar because Jo had left some kind of cryptic text for her to read. She started laying into Dean about what the hell her daughter was up to, and Dean did his best to answer without saying much. He was good at that. Jo had let him build up enough practice. Ellen still didn’t fall for it, though eventually she seemed to decide her panic was necessary and she just started a small rant about how Jo needed to start giving her some damn details before she told her to go places and maybe one day she wouldn’t show up and that would show her.

Sam was the next to show up. He pulled up in the car Dean had stolen ages ago, and walked in without much fuss. It was good to see him, even if it had only been a couple of days since they last talked. He didn’t say where he’d been, but it looked like he’d gotten his ass kicked on a hunt of the shiner he was sporting was anything to go by. Dean asked but all he got was Sam discussing logistics of the velocity and force necessary to cause the bruising on his face, and Dean pretty much tuned that out after 3.5 seconds.

It wasn’t a surprise to Dean when Cas popped in with Jo and Adam. In fact he’d positioned himself as far from Ellen as possible for that very reason, because she sometimes displayed joy by angrily criticizing the person closest to her. Before Ellen could say a word though, Jo opened her mouth to explain.

“Look mom, I know you’re gonna be mad I didn’t tell you, but I had to make sure first, and I didn’t know if it was true, but you know the girl I told you I’d met, well, she read those dumb books that guy wrote about us and…” Jo paused for breath, using the time to look between her mom and Adam. “And, well. I found Adam.”

Ellen didn’t move, her expression frozen as though she’d laid eyes on a ghost. Her eyes flickered to Jo and back to Adam, narrowing suspiciously.

“You’re sure?” she said quietly. Jo nodded, and pushed Adam forward a little toward their mom. He sheepishly made his way toward her, obviously expecting the same kind of questions Jo had asked of him. Expecting her to ask for some kind of explanation. She didn’t need one. “Oh, boy, you have no idea how good it is to see you.”

Dean was pretty sure he’d never seen Ellen cry before. He doubted he ever would again either.

“Hey mom, it’s okay,” said Adam. “I’m okay, see? I’m good.”

The Harvelles decided to leave shortly after that, seeing as how they all had a lot of catching up to do and a lot of things to work through. Jo stopped on the way out and said goodbye to Bobby, and then took an extra second to tell Cas to call them if he needed them. She didn’t say not to if they didn’t, but Cas understood that in a way it was implied.

“It’s like their very own Christmas miracle,” said Dean watching them go.

“It’s July,” said Sam. Dean was glad someone had punched him earlier.

“Actually, this month is closer to the birthday of Yeshua than December 25,” Cas commented offhandedly. “Though I suppose any power imbued by combined human belief would be linked to that date, if any miracles were to occur.”

“You are both ridiculously literal,” Dean complained, not without a bit of fondness. Cas smiled at him for a moment.

“I wasn’t sure if you would be back.”

Katie Winchester. Bobby Singer. Hell. That was what Dean had singled out as places and people he had felt he belonged with. And then there was this. This weird little group of people, that even now wasn’t entirely complete but was enough even still. Yeah, when it really came down to it, Dean knew where home was.

“What and miss out on both of your random factoids? I’d run out of disturbing ice breakers.”

Bobby, since he actually had social skills, seemed to realize that Dean and Cas needed to talk and very helpfully asked Sam to go and help him elsewhere, leaving the angel and the demon by themselves. Dean watched him go and began to speak before Cas cut him off.

“Jo and I are not romantically involved,” said Cas. “I thought I’d start with that.”

“Okay,” said Dean, picking up on the fact that Cas wasn’t done. Nowhere close if the look on his face was anything to go by.

“I also think you should know that you don’t get to decide who is and isn’t healthy for me.”

“Sounds fair,” said Dean, since Cas sounded more pissed off about that part than he had the first. He also made a mental checklist that primarily consisted of kicking Jo’s ass for telling Cas about what he’d said to her. Cas stared a moment longer to make sure that Dean wasn’t bullshitting him and then looked down.

“And what I said, when you… when Magnus trapped us, I meant it,” Cas cleared his throat awkwardly, still not looking him in the eye. “For the record.”

But you won’t say it again, thought Dean to himself. Not that it mattered. Beating Cas down to almost nothing was pretty nicely blocked from his head, but what had made him stop was not. I love you had slipped out of Cas’ mouth at Dean’s very worst, and maybe that was the only way it ever would. It didn’t matter much. Words had never been Dean’s forte either.

“I can’t promise it won’t happen again,” Dean pointed out. “This thing on my arm, it has to stay on. Forever. Otherwise Lucifer wins, and I’m not joining Team Satan. So, there’s a very real chance I could kill you, you know that right?”

“Dean, there was always a very real chance you would kill me. The good news is now you actually feel bad about it.”

Dean snorted. Well, time to lay it all out on the line then.

“I’m selfish and I kill people. I sing really loud, I don’t tip, and I will torture anybody who fucks with me. Also, we’re both immortal. You might be stuck with me forever. Think you can deal with all of that?”

“You don’t tip?” asked Cas, sounding surprised. “Dean, do you have any idea how hard it is to make a living in the service industry?”

“Babe, this is the part where we have a lot of make up sex. Shut up about the service industry.”

“I can’t believe that we let you buy the food. You aren’t even spending your own money, how hard would it be to tip the people who-“

Talk about not taking a hint.

“Cas, I mean it. Shut up.”

“But-“

********************

Gabriel’s triumphant return was somewhat spoiled by the fact that he decided to drop in on Bobby and let Claire recuperate from having housed Lucifer herself for the past several weeks, as well as give him time to prepare Cas for the fact that she was back. He hadn’t planned on teleporting into what looked like a serious make out session, especially since he had accidentally dragged along two teenagers who now also had to bear witness to some really indecent tongue action.

“In the name of our fucking father, Castiel, could you have picked a better time?” Gabriel asked. Cas responded by holding up his middle finger. He didn’t turn around, so he didn’t notice who exactly was staring at the two of them with a mixed expression of being grossed out and maybe a little bit happy and also very confused. He did however notice who spoke next.

“It’s good to see none of you missed me all that much,” said Claire sarcastically. The two men broke apart so that they could make completely certain they had heard correctly. And in living color, there stood Claire, a little wobbly on her feet and something not quite right in her eyes, but there and herself. Time froze for a second.

“You’re welcome,” said Gabriel, breaking the moment. Castiel walked forward and whatever relief that had been on his face when he first realized Claire was back was gone, a stern look taking its place.

“Claire, if you ever do something like that again, I swear on my life that I’ll-“

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too,” she said, cutting through the start of Cas’ angry tirade by throwing her arms around him and squeezing tight. The fight went out of him as quick as if someone had flipped a switch, and he hugged her back.

“Hey there, Claire,” said Dean after she’d let go and taken in the room. Sam and Bobby had heard the commotion and come back to the main room by that point, though Dean couldn’t tell exactly when that had happened.

“Hey.”

“Finally, I thought she was going to possess you forever,” said Sam. “You are so behind on helping me organize my notes.”

Claire closed her eyes for a moment and let herself feel normal. She was safe. Everything was fine. She opened them and rolled her eyes at Sam, because that’s what she’d normally do. She saw Jesse smile brightly at her out of the corner of her eye and made sure she didn’t flinch when he took hold of her hand. Her body was hers again. She was okay.

“Claire?” someone said. She got the feeling that everyone had gone on talking while she’d been collecting herself, and they had just now noticed that she wasn’t following. It took her a second to place the voice as Jesse’s. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Totally fine. Sorry what did you say?” Claire said quickly. Jesse looked as though he were going to keep asking her about it, so she kept talking. “I just got a little lost in my head, but really I’m fine.”

“We were just asking if you were feeling alright. That’s all you missed,” said Jesse carefully. Claire realized a second later she had been squeezing his hand a lot more tightly than could be comfortable and let it go and looked around the room to find people staring at her. She wanted it to stop.

“So, what was with the whole rom com make out thing?” she said, deciding redirecting attention was the best thing to do at this point. “Did you two finally sort out your differences?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Cas flatly. Dean decided to play along.

“What’s a rom com?”

“I don’t even know what half of those words mean. They didn’t teach us that language in heaven. In fact, I’m certain most of those words didn’t exist until recently. This degradation of English seriously concerns me.”

“Kids these days,” Dean agreed. The two exchanged smug glances and Claire let loose her first genuine smile since she’d been possessed. It felt nice. It didn’t erase the shit storm that was brewing just under the surface, but it still felt nice.

“You two are losers.”

And just like that the pressure was off. Gabriel of course went on for a while about how great he was, but mostly everyone ignored him (except Jesse who dutifully made sure the archangel’s ego wasn’t bruised) and just reveled in the fact they were all together again after having so long dealt with one or more person having been missing at a time for ages. And the reunion had a spark of something to it, something that none of them had appreciated until it was gone. It wasn’t something that was connected by blood or duty in the strictest sense (long lost half brothers non-withstanding), but something that had built up around them so slowly none of them had really noticed.

All in all, it would have been a pretty great night if Garth and Eileen hadn't busted through the front door.

“We need help,” said Garth, talking to Bobby, but clearly willing to accept from anyone at this point. “Angels broke into the bunker and kidnapped Rufus, Bobby, and Charlie. We didn’t know where else to go. You have to help us get them back.”

Eileen nodded in general agreement and the two of them waited for an answer.

“Is there some cosmic rule that nothing can go right for longer than five minutes?” asked Bobby. Garth shrugged, and Bobby invited them inside and looked at them both. “You want to tell us all what exactly happened?”

It took about two seconds to figure out that Lucifer was behind the kidnapping. It took about five minutes for everyone to realize they had no idea how to find their friends. They traded ideas back and forth and became increasingly frustrated, since Eileen and Garth refused to work with any angels associated with Samandriel, since Rebecca had betrayed them. Gabriel’s intel on Lucifer was before the vessel update, and he suspected she had moved around since then. They were all very much stuck about what to do next.

Lucky for them, the King of Hell decided to pay a visit.

“So you want to take down Lucifer, do you?” asked Crowley, making the humans who had’t felt his appearance jump. He smiled, casually holding up an unconscious, bloodied, and beaten looking blonde woman beneath one arm and holding up a coin with his free hand. “Where do I sign up?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of can't believe I got to over 100k words. Thanks for sticking around guys.


	24. Violence and Other Virtues

Charlie felt as though her stomach had dropped out and been replaced by jelly. Her knees wobbled enough that she almost lost her balance and probably would have if an angel hadn’t been keeping a tight grip on her arm. Dorothy was on her left with her own not-so-guardian angel and noticed Charlie’s discomfort.

“It fucks up your system the first few times. You get used to it,” said Dorothy, eyes scanning their surroundings for some way out. On the one hand, Charlie very much didn’t want to get used to angel transport, and on the other hand she had a feeling that she wouldn’t live long enough at this point to have to. “They didn’t bring Eileen and Garth.”

“Do you think they got away?” Charlie asked her. Dorothy shrugged.

“Shut up,” said Rufus. He sounded annoyed. Then again, he always sounded annoyed. He directed the next part of what he had to say to the angels. “Who the hell are you guys?”

“We follow Lucifer,” said the angel on the right stoically. One of the other angels gave her a look.

“Ophaniel, we do not need to speak to the prisoners,” said the angel holding Charlie. The man the angel was possessing was large enough that Charlie wouldn’t want to fight him in general, let alone with a powerful angel behind the wheel. She twisted subtly to see if she could squirm her arm out of his grasp and he responded by tightening his grip to the point she let out a small squeak of pain. He didn’t loosen it.

“They would find out soon enough,” Ophaniel pointed out. “And we were commanded to take them to the witch. I doubt she would not make mention of whom we serve.”

“Fair enough,” sighed Charlie’s angel. She, Dorothy, and Rufus were then walked toward an adjoining room, one that was heavily warded, some in ways that limited angelic powers. Dorothy made note of this, especially since the angel that was guarding her was about half a foot shorter than her and whose vessel clearly never had the opportunity to build up much muscle.

When they walked through the door, Dorothy’s escape attempt was short lived, since the angelic strength portion of their powers was apparently not limited. Charlie flinched at the sound of Dorothy’s wrist snapping and the pained gasp she wasn’t able to keep in. After that, Dorothy gritted her teeth at the pain, but not once did she mention it. All of this happened with a red headed woman watching on in vague amusement.

“Ah, the Men of Letters. I expected more… men.”

“We expanded the mission statement,” said Rufus. “Something about equality. Me, I was all for just kicking the men out, but apparently that would have left us with no members, so instead we let the women in.”

“How charming,” said the woman. “Well, now that I have you all, I suppose it’s best to put you to work.”

“What makes you think we’d work for you?” asked Dorothy. The woman smiled and snapped her fingers. Dorothy’s eyes went blank for a few seconds, and when life returned to them she lurched forward. Rowena tsked.

“Not what I’m looking for I’m afraid. You’ve got wits about you girl, but not the skills I need.”

She turned to Rufus next.

“Don’t look at me. I don’t work on Shabbat, and if those grimy windows are anything to go by, it’s past sunset so don’t go doing your mind tricks with-“

Rufus likewise stopped speaking, mouth falling open slightly as Rowena examined his mind. He shuddered when she stopped, glaring daggers at the witch.

“No, you won’t do either,” she said with a sigh. “What about you, my dear?”

Charlie wasn’t sure how it hadn’t occurred to her that she would be next in Rowena’s weird mind reading thing.

“Oh, you don’t want to do that. I’m not even a Woman of Letters, I just sort of help out. Really, I don’t think you need to-“ Charlie said quickly. She stopped talking when she felt something force its way into her head. It was as though the strings that connected her mind to her body had been snipped, and she was entirely alone with her thoughts, no sight, sound, or indication of the physical world to distract her. Then she felt the deeply uncomfortable sensation of something rippling through her mind, testing her reactions and probing into her methods of thinking. It felt like it lasted forever, though Charlie was sure it only lasted as long as both Dorothy’s and Rufus’ examinations had. As suddenly as it had begun, she was put back, once again able to feel. The witch smiled and crooked a finger, and Charlie’s angel pushed her forward. Charlie turned around desperately toward Rufus and Dorothy, both of whom were putting up a fight as they saw Charlie led toward the witch. Each of the angels holding them placed two fingers to their foreheads, knocking them out. By that time, Charlie was right in front of Rowena.

“Listen, my dear,” she said. “I’m not going to hurt you. All I need is for you to help me with just a wee bit of translation. And then you and your friends will be free to go.”

“No.”

“Now you see unfortunately, that really isn’t the answer I want to hear. Perhaps I can convince you. If you help me, I will heal your ailing mother,” said Rowena, pausing at Charlie’s horrified look. “I can give her her mind back. It would only take a spell or two, and then she would wake up, whole once again. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

Charlie looked away and tried to convince herself she wasn’t tempted. It was after all just translating right? How bad could it be?

Then again if it was for Lucifer, probably pretty bad.

“I said no.”

Rowena’s face lost its conspiratorial slant and she glanced at the angels that were still holding up Dorothy and Rufus.

“Chain them up and kill whoever wakes up first,” said Rowena. Charlie jerked upright at that and glanced backwards. “I need you, but I don’t need them. I’ve been in your head. I know every bit of affection you’ve spared in your miserable life. And I will take them down one by one until you figure out how to break this code for me. Do you understand?”

Charlie nodded. Rowena patted her cheek.

“Good. And just so you know? Your mother’s next.”

Charlie tried not to speak but the thought of so much death happening because of her had her breaking more quickly than she wanted to admit.

“Wait.”

“Yes, dear?” asked Rowena, smile back on her face. Charlie wished she could smack her.

“I’ll do it okay? Just please don’t hurt them. Swear you won’t.”

“You’d trust a witch’s word?”

“No. But I’d trust a spell,” Charlie had done some minor research into spellwork after meeting the Men of Letters, and had come across an old membership spell while messing around with sorting through their records that had been abandoned due to infeasibility. Each new member swore not to mention their society and if they broke it, they died painfully. After a significant amount of people had died, the spell lost its popularity and was banned from use. Luckily, Charlie had a good memory and had some idea of what it looked like. “You make a promise on your blood and bones, by the ancient powers that guided the world before Gods were even a thought in the minds of men.”

“You’d make a good witch you know,” Rowena said critically. “Memory like that. I could teach you, if you’d put your silly notions of right and wrong aside. This world was not made to be seen in black and white, you know.”

“Do the spell,” said Charlie. Rowena sighed and did so, the ingredients at her fingertips with a thought.  
 “I by neither command nor action will in any way harm those loved by or associated with Celeste Middleton,” said Rowena, carving a cross over her heart with a sharp fingernail. The scar faded almost instantly, but Charlie could feel the power radiating off of her. “So long as she is able and freely consents to helping me decode the Book of the Damned.”

Charlie could feel the power of the spell setting as Rowena finished. She felt sick to her stomach, and tried to convince herself she was doing the best thing she could for the moment. Eileen and Garth would send people after them. She just had to stall as long as she could while still not breaking the terms of the spell. She cleared her throat and stared down at the papers in front of her.

“I, uh, I need a computer,” she said quietly. Rowena nodded toward the two other angels, and Ophaniel disappeared. While the angel was outfitting a computer for Charlie to use, probably one that didn’t connect to the internet, Rowena sat beside her and led her though the work that had already been done. Almost against her will, Charlie’s mind began to churn out possible solutions, her eyes already scanning for patterns. Rowena smirked as she saw Charlie looking over the symbols.

“I knew I made the right decision,” she said smugly. Charlie gripped the edge of the table tightly and hoped that Eileen and Garth would come soon, because she wasn’t sure how long she could get away with not solving Rowena’s puzzle before the terms of the spell broke. If Dorothy and Rufus died because of Charlie, she would never forgive herself. Then again, that was sort of the point, wasn’t it?

***************

“You all don’t look particularly happy to see me,” Crowley commented.

“Well, there is the small matter of you trying to cheat me out of my soul,” said Bobby.

“Does the name Jo Harvelle ring any bells?” asked Castiel next. “Also, I just generally hate you.”

“You’ve tried to kill like half the people in this room. Why would we be happy to see you?” asked Sam.

“I try to kill all my friends. It’s how I show affection. Just ask Dean. He’s taken a swing at lover boy a time or two I’m sure. Besides, Jo Harvelle is fine. It’s not like I did any permanent damage,” Crowley rolled his eyes at the look that got him from Cas. “You don’t have to like me to accept my help. You’ve done it before when times were less desperate than they are now.”

“What do you mean less desperate than they are now?” asked Bobby. Even if they didn’t take up the offer of Crowley’s help, it was best to get as much information as he’d let spill before they sent him packing. He may be a snake, but he was a snake that knew what he was talking about a lot of the time.

Crowley took a deep breath that meant he was about to go into one of his sales pitch speeches, which of current company Castiel was very familiar with. It was amazing how persuasive he managed to be without being the least bit likable.

“I happen to have here a demon you all know as Meg,” said Crowley, nudging the blonde woman with his foot. “She managed to escape your little Antichrist’s angel killing trap, and smoked into a new vessel. Unfortunately for her, my men picked her up, and after a certain amount of persuasion, she told me about a coin she had that she used to spy on you lot. I picked it up and because the lovely Claire Novak was kind enough to keep it on her person, I was able to keep ahead of Lucifer’s plans to capture me without her being any the wiser.”

Crowley paused then as Claire patted her jean pockets and pulled out a matching coin to the one in Crowley’s hands. Well, now they knew how Meg had been spying on them at least.

“I happen to have heard a lot of interesting things. For instance, Lucifer has a witch working on translating the spell she needs to release the Darkness, only the witch in question hasn’t quite been able to crack the code it’s written in. Now, the Men of Letters are generally useless, but if there’s one thing they’re good at it’s assembling a group of otherwise intelligent people in order to complete mindless work that could be done by men and women of half their caliber. As I’ve overheard your little issue with Lucifer taking your associates, I think we all can assume exactly what they’ll be used for. And the longer you all drag up our histories with each other, the longer they have to force your friends to crack the code. Now, do you fully comprehend the urgency with which we must act, or are you going to spend the next hour debating whether you can work with someone who is perhaps a shade less moral than you lot?”

Well, when it was put like that.

“So what exactly is it you think we should do?” asked Bobby.

Crowley smiled.

“Well, as it happens, I do have a few suggestions.”

*****************

It was fourteen hours in and Charlie had managed to find a pace where she was getting through her work slowly enough that it would take several days while still managing to look convincingly stumped by what was in front of her. She knew she could write a program that would cut the time it took to solve the problem in half, but she wasn’t going to share that information. The method she was currently using was a lot more manual, and therefore a lot slower. It was also less accurate and all of this helped create the illusion she was doing a lot of work, when really not that much was getting done.

Of course, there was more than that to it, now that Dorothy and Rufus had woken up.

After Rowena had made it so they couldn’t speak, Charlie didn’t have to listen to them try to convince her to stop anymore, but she could still feel their eyes on her. When they’d first woken up, Rufus had asked her what the hell she had thought she was doing.

“Rowena said if I translate this, none of us get hurt. She was going to kill you.”

“Well then let her kill us,” said Rufus. “I’ve made peace with my God. C’mon Red, you know this ain’t going to work out for the best.”

“Charlie, being a Woman of Letters sometimes means making sacrifices,” Dorothy added in. She didn’t sound as annoyed as Rufus did, and clearly wanted to avoid dying if at all possible. Charlie had tried to convey with her eyes that she was working the long game without giving anything to Rowena. She kind of thought Dorothy got it. “We need to think about the greater good. Just keep that in mind, okay?”

Rowena had stopped any more communication after that, since stopping tongues didn’t count as causing harm, apparently. Charlie would argue that in court if she thought it would help or if she had more knowledge of the law than watching Legally Blonde had provided for her. After that it had been back to work, and Charlie was starting to wonder if there was anything to that whole praying thing in the books, and if so who she could trust to try it with. She could only remember a couple of names and most of them were no go’s. Michael, Raphael, and Zachariah hadn’t sounded particularly helpful, and Charlie was pretty sure at least one of them had died in the books. She knew Samandriel had been working with the Men of Letters, but if they had been betrayed, who knew what side they were on. Other than that, there was only really Castiel or Gabriel, and Charlie had no idea if they would actually try to help her or if they would just ignore her. Worse, she had no idea where she was. Angel transport meant she could be on the fucking moon and be none the wiser.

“Alright Charlie, you’re smart, you can figure this out,” Charlie muttered to herself.

“That’s the spirit, girl,” said Rowena, who had taken a seat and was reading a book that looked as if it was hand written and definitely not in English. “You know, you remind me quite a bit of myself when I was a lass.”

“Might be the red hair,” said Charlie, disgusted at the thought of being anything like the woman in front of her. Rowena grinned.

“Oh it’s a bit more than that, dearie. See, I can see the gears whirling away in that head of yours. I know that you’re plotting and scheming against me. Me and you, we’re fighters. When the world is unfair to us, we change the rules. You’ve had a shitty life, and you’ve manipulated and taken advantage until you came up smelling like roses. I’ve been in your head, pet, you can’t lie to me.”

“What I did I did to survive,” said Charlie. Sure, she wasn’t squeaky clean when it came to the law, but skimming off soul sucking corporations wasn’t exactly Stalin level crap. She was what Robin Hood would be if Robin Hood had a rent that needed paying and donated to charities that supported female reproductive rights.

“Same here, darling,” said Rowena. “Though there is still one difference between you and me. Want to hear it?”

Charlie didn’t. It at no point seemed likely that Rowena wouldn’t share her opinion anyway. Some people just really liked the sound of their own voice.

“I know not to pull my punches,” said Rowena. She nodded toward a demon who had taken over guarding them while the angels attended to other matters that needed their attention, apparently. She nodded at him, and the demon left momentarily, returning with a boy that couldn’t be more than five years old. He looked around with curiosity, his two middle fingers stuck in his mouth as he sucked on them. “Do you recognize this boy?”

“No, should I?” asked Charlie warily. Rowena shook her head and twisted her hand. The boy’s neck snapped. He collapsed, without even shrieking, his eyes going glassy in the space of a heartbeat.

“I promised I wouldn’t hurt anybody associated with you,” said Rowena. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t hurt anybody. I’ve got more people lined up outside. If I were you, I would hurry this along because when I get impatient, I think I’ll have the lovely…”

“Greg,” offered the demon after Rowena’s pause and pointed look at him.

“The lovely Greg will bring in our next volunteer. Understood?”

Charlie stared at the boy on the ground. She looked up and saw Rufus and Dorothy doing the same, and tried to look away when Dorothy looked up to see Charlie looking. She mouthed “Not your fault” before Charlie could manage it.

“Yes.”

“Sorry, darling, what was that?”

“I’m working as fast as I can,” Charlie lied. “I’ll get back to work.”

“Excellent. Greg, won’t you be a dear and remove the body? I wouldn’t want to distract the girl.”

The body. Charlie’s hand clenched into a fist as she heard that.

“There’s got to be a special place in hell reserved for you,” she said quietly as she watched the demon drag the boy out. Rowena rolled her eyes and went back to reading her book.

“Yes. It’s called the throne.”

****************

It was a slow fight to consciousness for Meg, but she managed. Sure, she figured she was just going to get another beating from that piece of shit also known as Crowley, but if nothing else she was stubborn. It wasn’t a surprise to feel her wrists and ankles were tied to a chair, though she tested them anyway. They were looser than Crowley would usually tie them, tight enough to be effective, but not tight enough to cut into the skin of her vessel and make it so every little motion rubbed the skin raw. That was her first hint something was different. The next was that when she opened her eyes she was staring up at a Devil’s trap. Crowley wouldn’t have used that. Finally she managed to tilt her head forward, ignoring the aching muscles that still hadn’t repaired themselves from constant abuse and beatings. As a reward, she got two blue eyes and a serious frown. She laughed.

“Aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper?”

“I’m taller than Crowley,” said Castiel humorlessly. Meg shrugged as best as she could with her arms tied to a chair. She knew she wasn’t saved, but she’d take the angel over the King of Hell any day of the week.

“So, you going to get started, hot stuff? Need any pointers where to stick the knife?”

“I’m not going to torture you.”

“Oh, so I’m just tied up for fun? Didn’t know you were into that. I have to say, I usually like to be on the other side of these kinds of things, but I’m willing to try anything once.”

Castiel looked briefly heavensward before continuing speaking.

“I am here, because Crowley is under the impression that you have some ideas as to the location of where Lucifer might be.”

“I might,” said Meg. “But if I didn’t tell him, why would I tell you? Especially if you’re not going to be putting that angel blade to use. Pun intended, for what it’s worth.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes.

“You didn’t need to be possessed by an angel in order to lure me to that warehouse,” Castiel pointed out. “The only reason I can think of that you were was because you didn’t agree with Raphael’s plan. It occurs to me that despite the fact you are clearly using your sexuality in an aggressive manner to intimidate me, it perhaps is also meant as a cover for genuine affection.”

It took Meg a second to cut through the bullshit and get the point.

“What, you think you can use the fact I like you against me?” she asked incredulously. Then she thought about it. “Fair enough I guess. And devious, so points for you. But no cigar.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because this isn’t about me. This is about the cause. I know you know about that. Every piece of yourself you gave so that the Apocalypse wouldn’t happen? Don’t think I wouldn’t do the same for the opposite. I believe in Lucifer, and that’s not ending anytime soon. She’s going to save us all.”

“She’s going to get us all killed,” argued Castiel. “Do you even know her plans? She wants to free the Darkness. A being with the power to destroy all of creation. You can’t possibly think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not? If she wipes out hell, do you want to know what that makes me? Not to angels, not to humans, but what that makes me to everyone stuck down there? A fucking hero. You think you’re the good guy, because you can stop a little pain up here on Earth? Give me a fucking break. Eternity is where the real currency is at, and there are billions who are screaming and screaming and will never stop. Tell me that ending that, no matter how you did it, wouldn’t be a good thing.”

That brought the angel up short. Meg smirked in victory before going on.

“Don’t think I can’t see right through you. Underneath it all, you still hope in your heart of hearts that God’s coming back some day. That he’ll pat you on the back and say you did the best you could. That you’re not a freak, or an outsider, or a mistake. I mean what part of you isn’t a desperate call for attention from daddy? The self destructive tendencies, the abusive boyfriend, the futile attempts to get your fucked up brothers to hug it out?”

“You’re trying to get a reaction out of me.”

“I don’t need to. See, the reason I like you, Castiel, is because you are a lot like all of us when all is said and done. You can see it, even when you don’t want to. You can see the injustice of sending the rejects to burn. You can feel it. You know God is wrong. He’s always been wrong.”

“I-“

“What finite crime could deserve infinite punishment, tell me that? What was the point of the Cage? What was the point of Hell? What was the point of God locking up his own family? You know there’s something wrong here. You don’t have to like Lucifer to know she’s on the right side of this.”

“She doesn’t care if the world gets destroyed. She doesn’t care about all of you. All she cares about is getting back at God and throwing a tantrum. She is not the Messiah you’re making her out to be.”

“Maybe,” said Meg. “But either way, I know I’m doing the right thing. And I honestly don’t think you can say the same.”

“There are people that are going to be hurt by this. I’m asking for your help, Meg.”

“You want help Clarence? Here’s my advice: think hard about what side you’re on. Consider for a second that it might not be the right one.”

Castiel stood up to leave and passed Crowley at the door.

“She won’t talk,” he muttered.

“So is it my turn then?” Crowley asked, brandishing some kind of curved blade. Castiel closed the demon proofed door that was keeping Meg in and would also keep Crowley out.

“No.”

*******************

“So,” said Claire staring down at their third wrecked map. “You think Cas is having any luck?”

Dean shrugged. Eileen and Garth were adjusting the spell again to try to get around any warding that was keeping them from narrowing down where Dorothy, Rufus, and Charlie might be. Eileen was furiously scribbling and crossing out words on a sheet of paper, while Garth stared a little miserably at the ingredients for the spell before fixing a smile on his face and making the whole thing up again. He changed the proportions slightly, Dean noticed. Eileen seemed to be taking that into account and was staring at her spellwork again and biting down on the pen as she tried to think through how to improve the spell.

“Probably not,” he admitted. Meg wasn’t going to crack. She’d faced a lot worse than Crowley, and though Dean knew Cas could try to wring information from her, he probably wouldn’t. If the angel was going to try torture, he would have asked Dean. “Hey Claire, do we need to talk?”

“About what?” asked Claire defensively. Dean raised an eyebrow and she crossed her arms, a gesture that was both hostile and self comforting.

“Well, I was going to ask if we needed to talk about Cas and I, but if something else is bothering you…” Dean trailed off. Claire didn’t say anything. “You were pretty upset before. After what happened.”

“After you nearly killed him?”

“Yeah, after that.”

Claire didn’t say anything for a little while. Then she uncrossed her arms and stared at her hands.

“I didn’t get it,” she said. “I really didn’t understand.”

She was quiet for a few seconds, and the both of them listened to the sound of Eileen scratching away at her piece of paper. Garth was looking over her shoulder and occasionally tapped her to make suggestions so she would read his lips.

“When Cas said that something else was controlling you, I thought it was just an excuse. Because I know for a fact you could destroy him and he’d come back to you. Who the hell knows why, but he would. I kept thinking that you could have fought harder against it. That since you didn’t, it’s because you wanted to hurt him,” Claire paused for a second. “I get it now. My body has done terrible things, and I could never stop it. I tried not to see, but sometimes I couldn’t block it out. And no matter what happened, I just couldn’t stop it.”

“You know it wasn’t your fault.”

“I said yes,” said Claire. “Kinda makes it a little bit my fault.”

“But you didn’t want to do those things. That’s what counts.”

Claire sighed and nodded a little, rubbing her right wrist absentmindedly. She was thinking about her father, and how mad she had been at him for so long. That even though she’d never quite been able to put words to it before, she’d always thought he could have come back if he’d just tried hard enough. The forgiveness she was granting Dean, it was for Jimmy too.

“I know. Well, I sort of know. I try to tell myself that. What I’m trying to say is I get it now. You didn’t hurt him on purpose. And the way I acted, the way I blamed you, I’m sorry about that okay?”

“Okay,” Dean acknowledged, surprised despite himself at Claire’s forgiveness. “So you and me, then, we’re good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

“And Claire? If it hadn’t have been you, it would have been someone else. Try to remember that. Everything Lucifer did, that is not on you. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah I got it,” Claire muttered sarcastically, rolling her eyes at Dean’s tone. Underneath it there was a bit of gratitude, but you had to listen real hard to hear it.

“Good.”

“We got it!” shouted Garth staring at their newest map. He and Eileen must have done the spell while they were talking. “Lucifer, you just got Garth’d!”

Eileen signed something that Dean had a feeling was along the lines of “Excuse me?”

“And Eileen’d.”

“Okay, then. What’ve we got?” asked Dean. He went over to look at the map and tried not to let the severe disappointment show on his face. “Maine? That’s as specific as it got?”

“Northern Maine,” corrected Garth, not for a second loosing his toothy grin. “It gets us closer, amigo, you have to give us that.”

“Great Northern Maine. That’s super helpful thanks.”

“I think you might be using sarcasm as a defense mechanism.”

“Last I checked nobody asked you Garth,” said Dean. He saw Cas was in the kitchen with Bobby and figured he’d ask how the questioning with Meg went, but he suspected by the look on the angel’s face that it hadn’t gone well.

********************

It was about twenty four hours since Charlie had started working and the only thing keeping her eyes open at this point was the screaming of a sixteen year old girl that looked like she’d been getting ready to go on a date before being kidnapped my Rowena’s demons. Every time Charlie slowed or stopped to think, Greg would shove another needle into the girl. When she wasn’t screaming she was sobbing, a soft sputtering sound that was just as heartbreaking.

Please let her die soon, Charlie thought to herself, because she knew the girl was going to die. There were already two middle aged men laid out on the floor, their blood coagulating and giving the room the faint smell of metal. Charlie tried not to think about it. All she could do was focus on not solving the puzzle and giving Eileen and Garth a little bit more time to save them. She ignored the unhelpful thoughts of “What if they never come?” or “What if you can’t figure it out slowly enough?” or “These people are dying and it’s all your fucking fault.” She focused her attention on patterns and coding and matching.

She was making a lot of mistakes now, so that at least was good. It was what happened when you forced someone to work nonstop. Charlie watched the mistakes add up and figured at some point she’d have to go back and start again, or at least scan through it for errors. She wasn’t expecting some of the mistakes to cancel out, or the message that she’d gotten a 95% match to flash across the screen. She got rid of it as fast as she could and glanced around. Rowena hadn’t been paying attention. Greg saw her looking though and stabbed the sixteen year old through the heart. Charlie flinched at the sound.

“Should I bring in the next one?” asked Greg. Rowena shook her head. She didn’t seem to take much pleasure in hearing people in pain, in fact if Charlie had to guess she would think the witch disliked it. She just knew it that it was slowly working away at Charlie’s nerves.

“Best not, dear. That last one was quite a screamer. I think the peace and quiet will do our little worker some good.”

Charlie didn’t say anything. Mostly because she didn’t want Rowena changing her mind but partly because she couldn’t think of a witty one liner to burn her with. Comic book heroes made the whole thinking on the fly insulting the enemy thing look really easy. As it turned out, it was not easy and everything sucked, and Charlie liked it a whole lot better back on the underground bunker with information she could geek out over than she liked it here.

As she tried to come up with some way to undo her work while still technically getting toward a solution, another demon ran in and said Rowena needed to speak with someone immediately. She left and told Greg to guard the door. Charlie turned and watched as the demon did so, for the first time since she got there not watching her. She turned and met Dorothy’s and Rufus’ eyes and saw Dorothy look down to the girl who had just been murdered and mouthed something at her. Charlie couldn’t quite tell what it was until she followed Dorothy’s eye line and then heard the subtle clanking of the manacles around her wrists. That was win Charlie saw the pins in the girl’s hair. She got up as silently as she could muster and walked toward the girl, taking the pins from her hair and giving them to Dorothy and Rufus. The demon didn’t notice. Charlie was going to make her way stealthily back to her seat when she realized that the people might be local, and if they were, they might still have identification, including their location. Keeping her eye on the demon that was watching the door, Charlie gingerly picked the edge of the jacket from the body of one of the men, the drying blood making it stick slightly. She found a wallet and opened it.

The home address for the man read 89976 Mason Road, Salem, Maine. Well, thought Charlie, here goes nothing.

“Castiel,” she whispered quietly. She wasn’t sure if praying out loud was necessary, but that was how it was done in the books, so that’s what she was going to do. “You don’t know me, but my name’s Charlie Bradbury. I’m kinda with the Men of Letters? We’re in a lot of trouble at some kind of warehouse in Salem Maine, maybe somewhere around Mason Road. There are demons and a witch, but please come help-“

“And what do you think you’re doing?” asked Rowena. Charlie stopped praying. She felt herself being lifted by her neck and choking as she hung in the air clutching at the great big nothing that was cutting off her airways. She kind of hated herself for first and foremost thinking that this is probably how she would die if she were in Star Wars. Funny enough, it didn’t feel as badass as it looked.

Good thing Dorothy was ace at lock picking. Rowena didn’t even notice until Dorothy was right behind her. She turned around to retaliate, but Dorothy wasted no time swinging a crowbar she had found lying around into the witch’s head. It rebounded off with a dull thunk, taking off a chunk of the back of the witch’s skull. Charlie watched the life fade from Rowena’s eyes.

“Ding dong the witch is dead,” said Charlie. Maybe she did have a couple of one liners after all. She looked up and tried to warn a glowing Dorothy that there was a demon right the fuck behind her, but without a word Dorothy turned around and stabbed him with the crowbar muttering an exorcism at superhuman speeds while the thing was skewered to the wall and twitching. Talking about action heroes…

“We good to go, Red?” asked Dorothy.

Marry me, thought Charlie in her head.

“Yep. Uh huh. Sounds good.”

The next demon that got exorcised was because of Rufus.

“Will you two hurry up. I swear I am too old for this shit,” he muttered darkly, wiping the blood off his keys. Charlie was pretty sure she didn’t want to know how he’d taken care of his demon. And there were more coming. Dorothy tossed Charlie the crowbar and picked up an unattached length of chain to use as her weapon. They weren’t dumb enough not to know that a serious amount of angels and demons were going to be headed their way in probably less than a minute. And they had no idea which way was out.

“Think we’ll make it out of this alive?” asked Charlie with the kind of detached curiosity that comes from being in fear so long you can no longer really feel it. That and no sleep.

“I’ve had worse chances,” said Rufus. “I’ll tell you all about it when we get out of here.”

“Something to look forward to I guess.”

They were all staring at the door. They all jumped when someone behind them cleared his throat. Rufus relaxed a second later, though Dorothy took a second to stop herself from swinging her chain at the angel with all her might. Charlie saw blue and knew they were golden.

“You prayed?” said Castiel.

*******************

While Castiel was saving Charlie, Dorothy, and Rufus, everyone else was gathered in smaller groups and discussing just what they were going to do about the Lucifer problem. Bobby and Sam were in a discussion about something in one of Bobby’s books, and Jesse joined in every once in a while. Claire had checked in with Jesse and then went over to Eileen and Garth, who spoke out loud for her benefit. This left Gabriel and Crowley to their own devices.

“I think your brother actually enjoys making things more difficult for himself,” commented Crowley. “It’s not as though he has a problem with torture. Heaven knows Dean tortures things constantly. But the one person who might actually be able to provide some insight into Lucifer’s mind, the one person who has spoken with him on a consistent basis, and Castiel says that we can’t touch her. It boggles the mind.”

“I’m anti-torture, for what it’s worth,” said Gabriel offhandedly.

“I suppose you consider the punishments you used to dole out earned punishments then,” Crowley bit back.

“Pretty much.”

“Well, at least tell me you have the balls to kill Lucifer if that’s what this comes to. Castiel seems to be lining himself up with hippies who insist killing each other is wrong.”

“Samandriel thinks that way. Many of the angels under him don’t,” corrected Gabriel. He didn’t look like he really wanted to answer the question. “Good news is, I don’t have to make that decision. Because in a fight, I don’t stand a chance.”

Crowley didn’t like the sound of that at all.

“None?”

“Michael could do it. Maybe me and Raphael together. But just me? No.”

“And there’s no chance of either Michael of Raphael chipping in?”

“Let’s put it this way: Michael isn’t getting involved for shit. He’s neutral and that’s not changing. And Raphael, well,” said Gabriel flashing the vial of grace he was keeping on his person. “Raphael’s not exactly in a position to contribute at the moment. I also don’t think she’s doing anybody any favors once she gets back from where I put her.”

Crowley’s eyes had lit up as soon as he saw the grace. A possible solution crossed his mind.

“Have I ever told you what I did in particular that has your brother so displeased with me?”

“I kind of figured you were just an asshole.”

“Charming. No, in fact, it is that I once did a rather interesting experiment on one Jo Harvelle. I injected her with the grace of several angels.”

“Sorry not an asshole. A great big murdering bag of dicks,” said Gabriel, wondering if killing the demon would put them at a disadvantage against Lucifer. He also wondered how Crowley would not think it suicide to mention that he went around stealing angel grace.

“The point being that she was able to incorporate it without too many adverse side effects.”

“What does that mean?”

“The only damage I could find it doing was that she was in an incredible amount of pain. Other than that, the grace didn’t harm her. Which means that there is a possibility that you could have someone with the strength of Raphael and the willingness to side with you against Lucifer of Jo Harvelle. An interesting prospect, wouldn’t you say?”

Gabriel thought about it.

“Maybe.”

Castiel wouldn’t like it. Then again, it wasn’t Castiel’s choice now was it? And if Jo was willing to do what Crowley had suggested of her own free will… it could turn the tide for them.

Crowley could see the idea working its way into Gabriel’s head and smiled to himself.

“Just food for thought,” he said. Any further discussion was cut off when Castiel arrived back at the house with Charlie, Rufus, and Dorothy in tow. They all looked exhausted, and were covered in flecks of blood, none of which looked to be their own. Eileen and Garth were the first to run over and Garth pulled each of them in for a hug. Rufus didn’t seem to appreciate the gesture, at least outwardly.

“Okay, okay, get off of me you damn fool,” he said to Garth. Garth complied, but the wide grin on his face didn’t fall off. And despite how annoying he could be at times, Rufus did like the kid. Not that he would ever tell him. The second you show your underlings your soft side, they can’t deal with your bullshit anymore, and there would never come a day when Rufus didn’t want to serve up a series of backhanded compliments at the men and women who worked for him.

Which is why he tried damn hard to hide his smile when Eileen signed to him that she was glad he was alive because she couldn’t afford the whiskey he asked for in case of his death. He signed back that she was cheap, which earned him a shrug.

“So,” said Bobby. “What do we do now?”

Nobody really had an answer to that question.

“Did you guys give Lucifer the code?” asked Castiel after a few seconds.

“I got way too close for comfort,” Charlie admitted. “But I didn’t get all the way there.”

“And the witch Lucifer wanted to perform the spell,” Dorothy added. “I killed her. She’ll need to find someone else.”

“Well at last we have that going for us,” said Dean cheerfully.

****************

Rowena felt it as her brain and skull were knitted back together, the breaks from her fall snapping back into place. There were several demons examining the inside of the chamber and generally discussing how exactly they were going to spin this when they inevitably had to report it to Lucifer. Rowena was wondering the same thing.

The demons all nearly smoked out of their meat suits when she stood up.

“What the hell?” said one of them. “You were dead. We checked!”

“Yes well,” said Rowena. “Magic is a wonderful thing.”

Not that it would help when Lucifer killed her for letting the Men of Letters escape. She walked over to the computer Charlie had left abandoned and angrily slammed her fist down and the keyboard. Before closing her eyes. She opened them when one of the demons tapped her gently on the shoulder.

“What?” she yelled, causing her to flinch back. Good. At least they were still afraid of her.

“I just wanted to know if the green flashing was good or bad,” the demon said quickly. Rowena looked at the screen and was surprised that her eyes didn’t fall out of her head.

100% match.

“Someone call Lucifer,” said Rowena, smiling brilliantly. “And let her know we’ve cracked the code.”

Good things come to those who punch inanimate objects, Rowena supposed.


	25. Who Turned Out All the Lights?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... my apologies to Ohio?

Balthazar was both resourceful and well liked by certain angels. Although a majority of heaven were not particular fans of his, he managed to keep on the good side of certain sympathetic ears in all camps. He had Samandriel’s friendship of course, as well as angels that had remained faithful to Michael and some who had turned to Lucifer. One of these friends, Ophaniel, proved to be particularly useful in learning what was happening with Lucifer’s plans. The news that her witch had managed to translate the spell Lucifer needed, and that she and other angels had been tasked with collecting the ingredients was not what Balthazar had wanted to hear when he spoke with her, but he was glad that she had shared it.

Ophaniel was one of few who sided with Lucifer, but did not agree that the Darkness should be released. For this reason, she had slowly been leaking information to Balthazar that he in turn had been reporting back to Samandriel and Castiel. He was careful never to reveal her identity, because he was certain there were turncoats among Samandriel’s angels, and the attack at the Men of Letters base proved him right.

Now he was in a private counsel with Samandriel in order to determine exactly what the two of them were going to do, knowing that not every angel could be trusted and that the stakes were higher than ever if they could not stop Lucifer from performing the spell.

“Did Ophaniel share the ingredients?” Samandriel asked. At some point during their conversation, his head had fallen between his hands. He looked defeated and old beyond the years of his youthful vessel. “There has to be something we can do to stop all this. Perhaps reach out to Castiel? If he’ll even still talk to us.”

“He will,” said Balthazar. “But I don’t think he’ll want to work with anyone but you and perhaps a few others that he trusts.”

“Hannah, maybe. And Gabriel, though I suspect he already knows. He hasn’t returned recently either. This entire affair is such a mess.”

Balthazar let Samandriel have his moment of self pity before continuing.

“The first two ingredients I’m afraid there isn’t much we can do about. Lucifer likely already has them now, with both demons and angels trying to procure them. It’s the third we need to worry about.”

“And what’s the third ingredient?”

“The death of the firstborn of the spell caster,” said Balthazar. “The spell caster being the witch Rowena.”

“But whoever it is must have died hundreds of years ago,” said Samandriel, eyebrows furrowing. “That means either Lucifer can lift their soul from hell and we’re already doomed, or he will ask for Michael to hand it over and we are still doomed. Rowena has not been recorded with a protege for any length of time, and there were rumors she had a son and that was why she was removed from the grand coven, but his identity was never confirmed as far as I remember.”

“Well, as it happens, I know who he is,” said Balthazar. “It pays to drink with demons every once in a while, I’ll admit. It’s the talk of the few who’ve remained loyal to the King of Hell.”

“Who is it?”

“Why, it’s Crowley himself.”

For the first time since Balthazar had begun speaking, something like hope returned to Samandriel. Sure he had no idea where the King of Hell was, or how he could keep him from being caught, but he knew enough about Crowley by reputation to know that the demon would do his damnedest to survive anything Lucifer tried to throw at him.

“So we need to protect him.”

“No,” Balthazar said. “You’re compromised remember? I’m guessing more than one someones here are in Lucifer’s pocket and the best thing you can do is wait for me to come back and spread false information. Send Lucy on a wild goose chase. They’ll notice if you vanish and it’ll alert them to the fact you know something is wrong. Act normal.”

Samandriel wanted to argue that he could help in a more substantial manner, but going through the options, he realized Balthazar was right. He nodded, resigned to do as he was told.

“And what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to find Crowley and make sure Lucy doesn’t do the same,” said Balthazar, already mentally going through a list of places he could make this happen. He was about to leave when he once again noticed the despondent look on Samandriel’s face. “Cheer up, champ,” he added. “It’s not your fault there are turncoats in your midst.”

“I really thought I was accomplishing something,” Samandriel said. “I thought that the angels here really believed in helping people.”

Balthazar patted him lightly on the shoulder.

“You are accomplishing something. You just forget that not all of us can be saints.”

Samandriel heard the flutter of wings as his brother left and then called Hannah in. Of everyone, he trusted her most. He filled her in on what was happening and what to say to the other angels. They were going to be working on the problem at hand as if Crowley were holed up somewhere in Eastern Europe. Hannah seemed grimly determined to follow Samandriel’s instructions after she learned of the betrayal that had taken place from within their camp. She was not a good liar, but she lied so infrequently that no one seemed to notice when she did, especially when she injected her speech to their brothers with enough righteous anger to quell any of her stiffness about misrepresenting the truth.

Lucifer’s spies would follow them to where Balthazar had supposedly tipped them off that Crowley was. And with this distraction in place, Balthazar could get Crowley to safety.

*****************

“I should be surprised but I’m not,” Balthazar sighed when he arrived at the home of one Robert Singer. Because of course, there sat Castiel, his demonic boyfriend, Lucifer’s first vessel, the ex antichrist, Gabriel, and the King of Hell. “You know, putting everybody Lucifer wants to find in one place is a bad idea right? Especially when it’s such an obvious fucking place. Anything goes wrong and you all run to an old alcoholic.”

“And who invited you?” said Bobby, grumpy at being called old.

The other people populating Bobby’s rather crowded living room included what remained of the Men of Letters who weren’t in hiding or possessed by angels. Or dead. They all seemed very wary of Balthazar though he couldn’t find much in him to care. Castiel was assuring the angry older one that Balthazar wasn’t a threat.

“Cassie, we need to talk,” said Balthazar. Castiel nodded but made no move to leave. “Elsewhere.”

“Is it about stopping Lucifer?”

“No I wanted to ask your opinion on which wine to pair with catfish,” said Balthazar sarcastically. “Of course it’s about stopping Lucifer!”

“We all have the same goal here,” said Castiel. “It’s better if we all know what’s going on.”

Balthazar’s eyes slipped to Crowley and then back to Castiel.

“Gabriel, restrain Crowley,” he said. The archangel didn’t look happy to be receiving orders but he locked a hand around Crowley’s arm before the king could make a run for it. He clearly didn’t expect this turn of events and tried to tug his arm out of Gabriel’s hold to no avail.

“What’s the meaning of this? I’m on your damn side,” said Crowley.

“Trust me, you cretin, unfortunately it’s for your own protection. I don’t want you running off into Lucifer’s arms. It just so happens that the witch Lucifer hired is preparing a spell, and your death is the final ingredient as her first born son.”

That got a lot of reactions.

“The witch is still alive?” said Crowley, sounding pissed.

“Rowena’s your mom?” asked Charlie.

“Why don’t we just kill him now then so she can’t?” asked Dean, ever practical. Crowley glared at him.

Balthazar decided to ignore most of what people said and focus on the only applicable, if stupid, question.

“Because, you dimwit, then Michael or Lucifer will just collect his soul and shove it into another body. And we won’t have control over him anymore. None of us are any match for Lucifer in a fight, but if we try really, really hard, I think that we might be able to come up with a plan to keep Lucifer away from Crowley until we can talk some sense into her.”

“Lucifer won’t see sense,” said Gabriel. “And we can’t keep her away from Crowley forever. What about the other ingredients? Can’t we stop her from getting them?”

“Not easily. One is forbidden fruit and the other a part of the golden calf. If Lucifer doesn’t have them already she will shortly.”

Gabriel thought it might take a little longer to find than perhaps Balthazar thought but he was right it would be difficult to defend the other ingredients. Crowley was probably their best shot. It was still a pretty crappy shot.

“We can’t defend him well enough,” Gabriel said. “She’ll get him eventually.”

“Well unless you have any better ideas?”

Perhaps it was fate or perhaps it was the fact that Bobby had had a call from the Harvelles to check in within the last couple of hours and Jo had been mad as hell to hear that no one had thought to call her when Charlie went missing, but the answer to their problem stormed through the door after a few moments of silence.

“What the actual hell?” she demanded. Castiel shook his head slightly because Jo should be far away from here and reconnecting with her family, not getting mixed up in Heaven and Hell’s affairs again. That’s what she wanted. He knew that. Jo didn’t look at anybody until she saw Charlie. “You okay Red?”

“I’m fine,” said Charlie, a little mystified why Jo was so upset. She wasn’t exactly fine. She was pretty sure she was going to need therapy at some point, and that was going to be difficult to find considering the details of her situation but whatever. Physically she was fine. Jo didn’t look reassured.

“You guys were supposed to make sure she didn’t get into trouble,” said Jo next, mostly to Rufus. “She was supposed to be safe.”

“Well, we didn’t exactly put up a sign and say please come kidnap us,” said Rufus, crossing his arms. Jo mirrored his aggressive stance, gritting her teeth before turning away from him.

“I shouldn’t have gotten you involved,” Jo said to Charlie though it sounded mostly like she was talking to herself. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Well, I mean I might have just accidentally led to the end of the universe, but besides that…” Charlie trailed off because holy hell that was a lot more true than it was funny. “Oh God. Shit.”

It hadn’t hit her yet. Call it lack of sleep or trying to process new information constantly or trying to cope with what had happened and how many people Rowena had killed while she worked (four) or whatever else, but Charlie hadn’t really thought about just how much damage she might have done.

“Shit,” she said, sitting down quickly. “Shit, shit, shit. This is all my fault. If it weren’t for me, they wouldn’t have- I didn’t mean to-“

“Charlie, it’s not your fault,” said Dorothy. Charlie didn’t seem to hear her, and Jo pushed Dorothy out of the way to get to her. Charlie was practically hyperventilating at this point, so Jo lowered her head until she caught her eyes.

“Charlie what happened?” she said. God, she couldn’t stop the guilt creeping up as she watched the vivacious redhead falling apart. She’d been okay before Jo had gone and opened her stupid mouth and made Charlie feel like she needed to be a hunter to be a good person.

“I said no, Jo,” she said, sounding as though she were asking for some kind of forgiveness. “But she said she’d go after my mom and Dorothy and Rufus, and then I was just trying to stall, but she kept bringing people in and they wouldn’t stop screaming-“

“Hey, hey,” Jo stopped her, knowing that Charlie was spiraling into a kind of panic as she spoke faster and faster. “Whatever happened, it doesn’t matter now? Okay? You’re going to be fine.”

“If I could have just worked a little bit slower,” insisted Charlie.

“No. You aren’t trained to deal with this kind of thing. I know you did the best that you could, and everybody else here knows that, too,” Jo lowered her voice further not particularly wanting anyone else to hear her. “Everyone has their breaking point, okay?”

It caught Charlie’s attention of course. Jo was pretty sure that Chuck had detailed her time in hell, or at least mentioned it because how could he not? And like it or not, she knew Charlie had read the damn things and that meant she knew just how far Jo had fallen and decided she was okay enough anyway.

Besides, Charlie had given Adam back to her. No matter how complicated that had ended up being, she was never going to forget that.

“Okay,” said Charlie at last, taking a few deep breaths and visibly calming.

“Okay,” Jo repeated. She turned around to see that everyone was staring at her. “So what are all of you losers up to?”

“Oh, you know,” said Gabriel flippantly. “Trying to stop the end of the world. Same old, same old.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Jo said with a sigh.

“You should leave,” said Castiel next. It was pretty obvious he had wanted to say it since she got there, but had held off until she’d cooled off somewhat from just being pissed off. “I was under the impression that you were spending time with your family. Not here.”

“They’ll be there when I get back.”

“Jo, you didn’t want to be involved with this anymore.”

“No, I didn’t want to be involved with you. There’s a difference.”

“Have you ever considered that I don’t want you around either then?” tried Castiel. Her eyes flashed, and he knew she knew what he was trying to do.

“Well, I guess it’s tough shit for both of us then. I’m going to stick around until I know whatever crap you’re all dealing with—Jesse you can fill me in—is all sorted. And when this is all over, Charlie you are going back to playing dungeons and dragons or whatever the hell it was you did before this.”

“Shouldn’t that be her choice?” asked Dorothy next.

“No.”

“And what gives you the right to decide for her?”

“Maybe because I actually give a fuck if she lives or dies. Apparently you don’t.”

Before Dorothy could retort to that, Balthazar decided to interrupt.

“Can you have your little soap opera after the end is no longer nigh? Little miss not-Michael’s-vessel, here is what you missed while you’ve been away. Lucifer wants to let out something bad. He needs Crowley to do it. We need to stop that from happening. Currently we are not doing anything to help ourselves and instead are bickering about who needs to be taken care of. If the next words out of someone’s mouth aren’t ‘I have a plan’ I am going to stab them.”

“I have a plan,” said Gabriel.

“Thank you.”

“Does anybody else have a plan?” asked Dean. “Your last plan was killing Cas. I don’t like your plans.”

“Yes, well most people here don’t like you, so you’ll have to deal with it,” said Gabriel, sticking his tongue out momentarily before collecting himself and deciding to lay every card on the table. He took out Raphael’s grace, and let it draw the gaze of everyone in the room. “So here’s the plan.”

*******************

“This is going to hurt a lot, isn’t it?” said Jo. She had undone her belt and was holding it in her hand so she would have something to bite into when Gabriel injected the grace into her. She was already laid across the sofa and it was probably too late to be having second thoughts at this point after she had agreed to the entirety of Gabriel’s plan. Even the parts she hadn’t particularly liked.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Well, if it’s anything like last time, it’s going to really fucking hurt.”

Gabriel grimaced.

“Then this is going to be a lot worse.”

“What if I can’t fight after?” Jo asked. “We’re going to juice me up with all that power but… What if I can’t use it?”

“Then we’re fucked.”

Well, that was to the point. Jo closed her eyes and stuck the belt in her mouth, nodding that she was ready. Gabriel pressed the needle through her skin and began to depress the plunger. Crowley had just so happened to still have some of the needles he’d used on Jo the first time.

The effect was instantaneous and ugly. The grace was doing it’s best to reject the body it had been put into, and Gabriel suspected that was where the pain that Jo was experiencing was coming from. She didn’t seem able to communicate at all. Gabriel got the feeling if he didn’t figure out something quick, Jo wasn’t going survive this small part of their plan. And then they would be fucked and Castiel would find some way to kill him.

“Jo?” he tried, but she was beyond reach. He switched his approach. He stuck his hand through Jo’s sternum, knowing whatever pain she was in was so intense that even the feeling of his grace brushing against her soul wouldn’t even register. Slowly he thought calm thoughts and of places on Earth that Raphael had liked. He coaxed his brother’s grace into relaxation and acceptance. It wasn’t like Jo would be able to utilize fully what Raphael had had at her discretion, but it was enough to change the tide in favor of them in a straight fight with Lucifer. Slowly Jo opened her eyes and then spit the belt out of her mouth.

“Well that was fucking unpleasant.”

“It worked,” Gabriel pointed out. This was good. Now they had some leverage on Lucifer. Gabriel still didn’t want to kill her and that was going to be the hardest part, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t if it came down to it. They would try talking first. And if it came to it, they would do what they had to do. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” confirmed Jo. Gabriel touched her to teleport them nearer to where Balthazar had informed them Lucifer was staying. Pain and misery aside, there was something awe-inspiring about the feeling of wings unfolding and the rush of flight that Jo could admit was one of the best things she had ever experienced.

******************

“So we’re trying to steal an apple?” asked Dean, huffily. Charlie opened her mouth to say something but Dean cut her off. “I don’t care what fruit it is. Don’t correct me.”

Charlie shut her mouth. She refocused on her computer where she watched Jesse and Claire going through an obscure and notorious museum located in Southern France. Gabriel had actually moved the fruit that had remained from the Tree of Life from its original location five years ago when he was bored of Michael and Raphael snapping at each other just to see if anyone would notice. No one had. This, of course, gave them a lead against Lucifer they hadn’t been expecting, especially since she was still looking for Crowley somewhere in Eastern Europe.

He’d stuck it in storage and then made it impossible for any demon, angel, monster, or even witch to get at it. Unfortunately, that precluded everyone in the Men of Letters. So Jesse and Claire were stuck going through with it, because although they had cast spells before, they had never done it under use of their own natural power, instead relying on magical elements to provide the power for them. This was of course excepting what Jesse could do as an antichrist which was no longer applicable.

“You guys are getting close,” Charlie said, speaking into a microphone while she pressed a button. “No cameras down there, so be careful and keep me updated. Once you have the quince, get the fuck out and we’ll send Balthazar in for you.”

It had been decided that it would be best if Gabriel were given each of the ingredients to hold onto, excepting Crowley. This was hopefully after Jo and Gabriel kicked Lucifer’s ass into next week. If they could manage to overpower him, then he might think twice before trying to go after Gabriel for having what he needed.

“So,” said Dean, conversationally. “You doing better?”

“Not really.”

“Fair enough. If it helps, they probably would have figured it out eventually anyway.”

“Wow, it’s amazing how much that actually doesn’t help with the crushing guilt, but thanks for trying,” said Charlie. She listened to something Claire said and gave further instructions. Then she sat and stared at her computer for a bit. “I want to kill her.”

“Okay.”

“But I don’t want to want to kill her, you know? I’ve never felt that before,” she said. “If she has to die it should be because she’s the bad guy, not because I hate her, you know?”

“I guarantee you I’ve done worse than she has,” said Dean. “You could kill me instead. It might make you feel better, if you really want justice.”

“I’m not going to kill you.”

Just then Charlie stopped listening to him and pounded a fist on the table.

“They got there first,” she said to him. “Okay, Claire, Jesse get out of there right now. I’m sending Balthazar in as soon as I can.”

Balthazar got Claire and Jesse out of the museum within the next few minutes and nobody was hurt but there didn’t seem to be much reason to celebrate. One ingredient had already been taken by the enemy. Now they just had to get two more.

*****************

They didn’t know where in the military complex the golden calf was located, so they split into teams of three. Dorothy went with Bobby and Rufus while Sam stayed with Garth and Eileen. Eileen and Garth had come up with a spell to send the entire place to sleep, and so they traveled through the halls unchallenged. Sam stole a security badge from a man in an anonymous looking black suit, and they managed to make it onto an elevator. They went down.

Right away they knew they had chosen the right place. No less than twenty demons surrounded a door they found impossible to open. Sam knew without a doubt this was where the golden calf was kept. On the mechanism to open the door there was written a riddle in Sumerian, which although the demons knew the language they had not been able to discern its answer. Eileen looked toward Garth and signed to him that he should work to decipher the code while they held off the demons. He signed back an affirmative and Eileen nodded her head toward Sam as she moved to attack her first demon, stabbing it through and then yanking the knife out. Sam also moved into action, guarding Garth after he killed the two demons that had been working on the riddle. Without thinking, Sam turned to take out a demon that had managed to keep out of his peripheral vision a second before Eileen had time to shout a warning. The two exchanged a glance and began to use whatever subtle understanding there was between them to kick the demon’s asses into next week. It was oddly like having eyes in the back of your head, and Sam found a greater awareness of the demons in the room than he would have had on his own. More demons flooded in as Garth continued trying to solve the riddle, and Sam and Eileen continued fighting smoothly, feeding off each other’s successes until the bodies piled up around them. At last, they fought their way to the door and closed it, keeping the demons out with warding and a quick spell from Eileen. Then they each took a deep breath and turned to each other.

“That was…” said Sam, smiling widely. “That was actually really fun.”

“We should fight together again, sometime,” Eileen agreed. They turned around to see Garth jumping happily.

“I figured it out!” he said. “The answer was Eve. Well, Nin-ti. Sumerian word play is actually a fascinating subject-“

“That I’m sure we’ll be able to discuss later,” Eileen broke in. “And Garth, you are a genius, don’t think I don’t know that but for right now I think we should leave before we are overrun with demons again. I doubt our warding will hold forever.”

“Good idea,” said Garth, signing as he spoke. He had flustered slightly at her compliment and looked about two seconds away from saying aw shucks, but he didn’t. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out some of the powder that Magnus had created showing it to Eileen. She understood what he wanted and took hold of both Garth and Sam’s wrists as Garth performed a spell to get them outside without having to use the door. It worked perfectly, and the portion of the golden calf they had retrieved was safe.

They reported back a victory and told Rufus, Bobby, and Dorothy to get out of the complex. The entire group was in high spirits, even Bobby and Rufus, after having successfully carried out their part of the plan.

There was no way they could have known that another piece of the golden calf had been gifted to Lucifer by Balder in return for protection and a promise not to go after any gods Balder decided to extend his amnesty to. Lucifer had agreed without haggling, a sign anyone else would have known meant they were making a foolhardy decision, but Balder was too proud to notice the amusement in Lucifer’s eye that Balder thought he was receiving anything of worth from her. She had not planned to send her demons after him or his allies, and perhaps the Darkness would destroy him. He did not hear of this and left the meeting pleased. And so the Devil had two ingredients needed to raise the Darkness.

*****************

Lucifer was relishing in her victories when Gabriel appeared before her. Her sword fell to her hand immediately and she blinked in surprise to see Raphael beside their brother. Wearing a Harvelle no less. There was something wrong with her grace however. It was almost as though instead of carefully fitting herself to the human she inhabited, Raphael had poured inside with no mind to her own dignity. Raphael did not much care for the feelings or comfort of vessels, but Lucifer was at a loss to think why she would look like this.

“Brothers,” Lucifer greeted, keeping her knife at her hand. “Why have you come here?”

“Well, I got bored listening to Rent, so I figured I’d come talk to you,” said Gabriel. “Look, bro, you do not need to do any of this. Dad’s shitty, we get it. Your life was double shitty. That doesn’t mean you get to fuck everything up for everyone else.”

“You act as though it is a forgone conclusion that the Darkness will want to destroy God’s creation,” said Lucifer. “But you don’t know. You only guess.”

“Well, based on past behavior I’m going to go ahead and say it’s a pretty good guess. Dad got rid of her for a reason.”

“Just like he got rid of me for a reason?” Lucifer asked. Gabriel groaned.

“Why are you so damn dramatic? Let me repeat myself. You don’t get to use your problems to justify being a dick to everyone else. And I don’t know if this is some kind of stunt to get God back, or if you want to do the right thing, or what the hell you’re thinking here, but there are a lot of lives at stake. And I don’t just mean human ones. She could swallow all of existence if no one stands against her.”

“So be it.”

“So what I’m getting from this is there’s nothing we can say that’s going to change your mind,” said Jo. Lucifer stared at her, knowing now that something was definitely wrong. “Perfect.”

Jo pulled Lucifer forward by the flannel shirt Krissy had been wearing when she’d been possessed and broke her jaw with a single blow.

“You are not Raphael.”

“Nope,” said Jo. She could get used to this. For once she was not at such a huge disadvantage against her enemies. And here was the angel that had planned on wearing her brother like a suit. What a great way to work out a little rage. “I wonder what that looks like to you. Seeing your brother in front of you and knowing someone else is in charge? What a horrifying fucking idea.”

Lucifer exerted enough force on Jo to send her flying into a wall about twenty feet away. She hit with a hard thud and then felt as her broken bones and scrapes healed almost as fast as they had formed. Oh yes, she could get used to this.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Gabriel tried again, but Lucifer was already stalking towards Jo, rage evident on her face. On second thought, perhaps bringing Jo was not his brightest idea. It was too late to do anything about it now. “Lucifer!”

Lucifer ignored him as she got closer and closer to Jo. Jo pulled out her knife and held it out in front of her, ready for a fight she could not win on her own. Gabriel knew this was the true moment to choose a side. Of course he didn’t want to go against Lucifer. Not really. Castiel’s words came back to him, about being a coward. He sighed and flew to Jo’s side, readying to fight Lucifer who had stopped when she saw that Gabriel was genuinely prepared to fight her. A look of deep sorrow crossed her face, but she didn’t surrender. Pride had always been one of Lucifer’s greatest failings, and now once again she would choose pride over compromise.

“Do you know no loyalty?” Lucifer asked her brother. “If I bring our father back I could reunite heaven. We could finally be a family again. Don’t you want that?”

“I love you, Lucifer. I really do. But you’re delusional. If God wanted to fix us, we wouldn’t be broken in the first place. Loyalty isn’t blindly following every word you say. It’s telling you when you’re being a douchebag and giving you every chance to stop. Well, this is the last one.”

“And you’re willing to die just to stop me from succeeding. You would take a certainty over a possibility of your demise?”

“There are people on this Earth I care about,” said Gabriel. He thought of Jesse, and of Castiel, and of Bobby, and of a million strangers he had met on his time on Earth. He thought of his stints as various gods in different pantheons and the friends he had gained there as well. There were so many that he knew he needed to protect from this possible destruction that it no longer felt brave to stand against Lucifer, but vital.

“I suppose we will not see eye to eye,” said Lucifer.

“I guess not.”

Lucifer attacked first. The room echoed with the sound of clanging metal as Jo and Gabriel did their best to keep the devil at bay.

***************

Crowley should have been safe.

So why was he trapped with Rowena in Maine, when he should have been in Kansas guarded by the Campbell family?

The plan had seemed air tight. The Campbells had the ability to provide a secure location for Crowley to stay, while being very low on the list of places he was expected to be. Even Crowley had agreed it was his best option at their current point when Gabriel had suggested it. Sam had called his mother, and Crowley had been placed in a safe room. All should have been well.

Only it wasn’t, because Christian Campbell had been possessed by one of the demons loyal to Lucifer.

It had happened after Sam had been dragged back to the Campbells’ home and subsequently escaped. Lucifer had happened upon the information and placed a demon within their ranks on the off chance that Castiel attempted to use them as a resource to prevent her attempts to raise the Darkness. She had likely never expected that this whim would result in the third and final ingredient for her spell.

Rowena chanted and worked, doing her best not to look at her son. He glared from where he stood in a devil’s trap, wishing the ceiling would fall on his mother. Wishing he had thought to seek her out and exact revenge for his childhood when Rowena was weak and friendless. Hatred for his mother permeated the air and Rowena could feel it.

She finished as much as she could before the last part. She took out her blade and walked toward her son. Her hand shook only once. It was still enough for Crowley to see and he decided if his life was going to end like this, out of every possible way it could have, he was going to get a few answers out of the ordeal before he bit the big one. He was a businessman after all, and out of even the worst of situations he always got something he wanted.

“So are you going to tell me?” asked Crowley.

“Tell you what, Fergus?”

“Why you hate me. Why you’ve always hated me. You left when I was eight. And despite everything you put me through, I crawled my way up from the pits of hell and I fought and scratched for every inch. I made something of myself despite you, and if you’re going to kill me, I want to know. Once and for all.”

A million reasons filled Rowena’s mind, and all of them held an aspect of truth. There was shame tied up in Fergus’ birth, and hatred for his father’s betrayal, and hardship, and a million other variables that had led to her leaving without him. She could say any of those and Crowley would feel satisfied. Then again, she was about to kill him, and what could the truth hurt?

“I don’t hate you Fergus,” she said as she slit his throat. She managed the rest of her sentence as she collected the blood in a bowl and watched the shuddering flashes of light that indicate a demon’s death. And then she confessed the extent of her crime, because she had lied about the nature of the third ingredient, making it a matter of birth in order to hide any weakness that could be used against her. Because the third ingredient was not her first born, but the death of someone she loved. “None of this would work if I did.”

By betrayal the Darkness was banished from the universe and by betrayal she inhabited it once again.

*******************

Everyone felt it.

It was as though the air became heavier, the sun dimmer. Also, there were a couple of huge plumes of smoke that started to form in the middle of Ohio, where Dean Winchester had gone as soon as the mark had gone. Great, he thought, another supernatural being that had decided making a dramatic entrance was more important than being a normal fucking person.

He had been with everyone else save Jo, Gabriel, and Crowley at Bobby’s. And they thought that they may have actually pulled off Gabriel’s plan until Mary had called Sam and said that they’d lost Crowley. Even then, they still had hope because Sam and Eileen had been able to save the piece of the golden calf they had been sent after, but that was taken from them too.

An Indian woman had walked through the door uninvited and then gone on to ignore the fact that everyone except Castiel pointed a weapon at her. She had taken in Bobby’s home with barely masked disdain and then asked where Gabriel was. No one answered and her lips had curled up in a grimace but she had deigned to give them her message. And the message was that some guy named Balder had fucked them all over. Kali, as Castiel later told them her name was, was a friend of Gabriel’s. Well, perhaps friend was the wrong word, but no one in heaven knew about that. Gabriel had made sure of it, and knew he was right to do so after seeing just how hated Castiel had become after starting his strange affair with a knight of hell. Angels were not understanding or supportive as a rule.

Of course, Dean didn’t know any of that. He just knew that a few minutes after Kali had delivered this news, lightning struck through two floors of Bobby’s house to hit him right on the mark on his arm. And then right before his eyes the mark disappeared. Dean stared for a moment at the smooth skin on his arm and then looked up to see Castiel staring grimly at him. It had happened. The darkness was out, and Dean knew somehow that she would come for him. He could feel it, and he also knew without needing to be told that no one he cared about should be around when she did. So he teleported to Ohio.

And now he knew he’d been fucking right to do so, because this black smoke shit was no joke. Cars flipped on the nearby freeway from the strong winds made by the funnels of smoke all of which came together to converge at a single point, a hundred feet from where Dean was standing. It consolidated, for a moment the air calming as people began screaming and trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Dean stood where he was, watching as the dense ball of, well, darkness, pulsed and expanded. The screams were cut off and for a few seconds there was silence. And then a woman stood before him. Her features remained in flux, shifting between the faces of every woman Dean had ever known. The faces of his mother, Claire, Jo, Layla, Bela, and Lisa appeared more than any other, though the entity finally settled with none of these faces, instead taking the face of someone Dean half remembered from when he was a kid. She’d been a woman of letters, and had let him hide from his dad one time when he was playing hooky from studying lore. She had been foreign, with a strong accent and stronger features. The darkness had kept the face, though the voice she had taken from elsewhere.

“Hello.”

“Was all of this really necessary? You know most people when they want to say hi, just say hi. No clouds of smoke necessary.”

The Darkness stared at him a moment before nodding and sighing.

“I apologize. I needed to feed, but I wished to speak with you. This seemed the most efficient method.”

“Feed?”

“My brother’s creation is powered by souls it seems,” the Darkness said, drawing from the air around her small glowing spheres of light. They disappeared into her fingertips in a steady stream. Dean was strangely reminded of a vacuum cleaner. “Unfortunately I must play by his rules as long as his system is in place. And I need energy. I’ve been gone so long.”

“Wait, is that why I could get out of hell? That was you?” Dean asked. He hadn’t quite known why he had figured a bomb made of souls would work beside just wanting to try anything to escape. But now he could see that she had likely made the suggestion to him, so deep in his subconscious he had thought of it as his own. God, that was a creepy thought.

“I wouldn’t have let you rot in that pit of punishment,” said the Darkness. As she continued sucking the souls through her fingertips, the smoke around them grew thinner and thinner until Dean could look around and see the wasteland the Darkness had left behind. The grass was dead and inexplicably white. All Dean saw was death for miles in every direction. The Darkness seemed unperturbed.

“You just killed a lot of people,” said Dean. The Darkness shrugged elegantly. She looked around and frowned as though she hadn’t thought of it quite like that.

“They would have died anyway. And I was hungry.”

It was surprising how innocently she said it. In all honesty, Dean didn’t care about how many people she had killed as much as he cared how powerful she was and who she might kill in the future. Still, the concept that she’d done anything wrong didn’t seem to occur to her. Instead she looked at the destruction she had left as though it fascinated her. She knelt to the ground for a moment and touched the white grass she had left behind. It crumbled into dust between her fingers. Despite her obvious intelligence, there was something childlike about how she interacted with the world.

“So,” Dean said awkwardly, winning her attention away from her surroundings. “Why are you here with me? Lucifer’s the one who let you go.”

“Lucifer’s the one who trapped me in the first place,” huffed the Darkness. The ground shook slightly as she clenched her fists. She let the anger go quickly, though. “But you, you kept me close to your heart. You fed me as I wasted away and in return I kept you safe. I acted as daughter and mother to you both and I want to stay with you. I wanted yours to be the first face I saw.”

Well, that was actually kind of nice, but Dean ran through what she had said and what he knew slowly until he landed on something that had him seething.

“You made me hurt Cas,” he said coldly. “That was you.”

The Darkness seemed to search a moment for what he meant before her confusion cleared. She didn’t look apologetic.

“I was keeping him from hurting you. Every choice I made was for your own good. I know the pain of being betrayed by someone you love. And Castiel loved my brother more than he loved you. In his heart, God was still before all others.”

That hurt to hear. More than Dean wanted to admit.

“Besides,” the Darkness continued. “Angels are impetuous, condescending fools that think power grants them grace and that obedience is the highest form of worship. My brother created them only to feed his ego. Releasing them from this state of servitude is no great crime to me.”

Yeah that wasn’t going to fly.

“You don’t get to hurt Cas. Ever. For any reason,” said Dean. The Darkness frowned but acquiesced with a nod. Dean let out a sigh of relief before continuing. “Or Sam. Or Claire. Or Jesse. Or-“

“I know the people you love Dean,” the Darkness said. “Please do not feel the need to list them all.”

“Just so we understand each other.”

The Darkness nodded and then looked at him hopefully.

“So I can stay with you?”

Dean hadn’t exactly expected that, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. She had never been in this world before and all she knew of it was through Lucifer, Cain, and Dean’s eyes. She was already determined not to see Lucifer as far as Dean could tell, and that was a good sign as far as he was concerned. With Cain dead, that left only him to show her how the world worked.

“Fine, but no more stunts like this okay?”

“I need to feed.”

“Just wait a couple of days until we figure something out. Can you do that at least?”

The Darkness nodded after a few moment’s hesitation.

“Okay, first thing first. I’m not calling you the Darkness because that is fucking annoying,” said Dean pulling out his phone. He looked up a baby naming website and then looked through a list of names. “How do you feel about about Anna?”

*******************

The Men of Letters had gone back to their headquarters after Dean’s disappearance, saying they felt they could do more from there than they could from Bobby’s now cramped living room. There were more books and resources there, and they wanted to start research as soon as possible on methods they could use to solve the problem the Darkness represented. Rufus had clapped Bobby on the shoulder and reassured him that everything would work out okay when they’d watched the news reports about what had happened in Ohio, and if that wasn’t a sign of the end of times, Bobby didn’t know what was.

Sam had decided to begin his own research, and locked himself up in a room upstairs with a concerning amount of books and caffeine. Bobby had set a four hour timer before he made sure the kid hadn’t given himself a heart attack. He had a feeling by the way Eileen had managed to get a real and almost affectionate handshake from Sam before she’d left with the rest of the Men of Letters, she would be pretty pissed if he didn’t, too.

Jo and Gabriel had returned right after Dean had left. There was no need to fight Lucifer if she had succeeded, and in any case they had been slowly losing. Lucifer had let them go without complaint, likely because she had not wanted to be fighting Gabriel at least in the first place. Jo had collapsed on the couch as soon as they returned and Gabriel had removed the grace from her as quickly as he could manage, and then Claire and Jesse had spent the next hour trying to break her fever by placing and replacing cool cloths on her skin. It took a long time for her to return to herself and when she did, she had trouble moving as though her muscles had ceased to function at her will. Castiel had checked periodically to make sure her heart continued beating, and restarted it the three times it stopped. But slowly but surely, Jo recovered and Dean still hadn’t come back.

Charlie had stuck around, trying not to get in anyone’s way. Bobby knew she felt as though the entire mess were her fault, and that was why she hadn’t gone back with the Men of Letters, despite the disappointed look of Dorothy, who clearly admired Charlie no matter what role she had played in the release of the Darkness. But Charlie had wanted to stay with Jo until she knew she was okay. So they had left and Charlie had stayed, muttering to herself and glancing at Jo every so often. Bobby wondered if she was praying for the girl, and if so who the hell she was praying to.

Samandriel had stopped in with Balthazar, but both had left soon after arriving since they were needed elsewhere to try to organize some kind of defense against the Darkness if possible. Even angels on Lucifer’s side were prepared to join just in case she did not act as they hoped she would. It fit into their general approach to everything as far as Bobby could see. Say you want peace but constantly be preparing for war. Yep, that was angels down to a tee.

When Jo woke up she practically jumped off the couch before she realized where she was and relaxed. It was a good reflex for a hunter, and for that reason it hurt Bobby’s heart a little to see. Jo had reacted like that to waking up for as long as he could remember, even back when she’d been a skinny teenager with a habit of memorizing facts about the different guns they used for hunting. He wished she could get a decent night’s sleep for once, but he didn’t say anything about it, because that’s not something Jo was going to be getting anytime soon.

“Hey,” she said, seeing everyone staring at her. She stumbled and clutched at her head. “Jesus, I feel like I just drank all of the alcohol.”

Castiel and Charlie steadied her, though Castiel let go after only a moment and let Charlie lead Jo back to the couch where she sat still complaining about a killer headache. Castiel didn’t say anything, since he still had disapproved of that portion of Gabriel’s plan and thought it had put Jo at more risk than anyone else. Jo had put down his objections by saying that she could do whatever the fuck she wanted and Castiel had backed down, however reluctantly. He gave her a glass of water and left her with Charlie who was doing her best to distract Jo from the pain of her headache by telling her bad jokes. Jo laughs at a few of them. Charlie didn’t talk about the fact they all might die, which is what Bobby would be talking about. Then again, Bobby had never much liked distractions. Believe it or not, he found them distracting. Then again, he wasn’t going to take away anybody else’s coping mechanism.

Claire and Jesse had been spending their time in Bobby’s kitchen listening to the radio. Claire sat on one of his kitchen chairs while Jesse sat on the floor and Claire played absently with his hair as she listened to the newscasters try to explain how an entire state including all the plant and wildlife inside it had died within a period of several minutes. Bobby had already let Jesse know that he could use a chair, but Jesse had just smiled at him and stayed where he was. Bobby suspected it was because this was the first time since Claire had been back that she’d chosen to show him any kind of genuine affection. After what she’d been through, Bobby didn’t blame her. He thought a moment about when his wife had come back to life for ever so brief a time, and how she had lied about remembering her possession. But that hurt and there was more pressing shit to deal with at the moment than his feelings, so he let the thought go and left the teenagers to themselves. Heaven knew they deserved a moment of peace in the middle of this clusterfuck of a situation.

So instead he joined Gabriel and Castiel who were quietly conferring with each other on what exactly their next step would be. Angels were picking sides as usual, but as far as anyone could tell, this was a force only the archangels or God would be able to take on. And the big guy was missing in action, and two out of four of the archangels were asking for the Darkness’s help instead of planning how to take her down. And then there was Raphael, who Gabriel still didn’t really feel like releasing. Besides, their little experiment with Jo had destroyed her grace. What little Gabriel and been able to recover was damaged to the point Raphael would be of little help in a fight anyway.

Bobby listened to it, stopping a moment to take a sip of whiskey and thinking. As far as he could tell they were fucked, but hey if everyone else wanted to stay positive, he’d do his best. Samandriel stopped in again a few moments later and they kept discussing while Bobby looked on. He was good at noticing things and puzzling people out, and what he had puzzled out was that they had no clue what they were going to do.

Samandriel seemed lost if anything. He seemed to want to find a method of ridding the world of the Darkness without risking angels’ lives. Castiel meanwhile seemed mostly distracted, worry for where Dean had gone causing him to check the room constantly. Gabriel’s reaction was the one that most concerned Bobby though. For once, he made no jokes and instead spoke entirely seriously. There were no inappropriate interludes, or tangents meant to make his brothers uncomfortable. Bobby had had to put up with the archangel a long time when they’d been bringing up Jesse, and he couldn’t remember a moment when he hadn’t found the guy obnoxious. And now there was nothing. It was the first time Bobby could believe the guy had once been one of God’s most feared.

And it was just like this when Dean finally came back. But good God, the boy did not have the good sense to come back alone. Bobby knew by the way the air felt heavy when she walked in just who she was. And if that wasn’t enough, three angel blades were drawn in near unison, almost as though it were instinct rather than decision which was as scary as anything else. Dean was immediately on the defensive, standing in front of her before any of the angels could advance.

“It’s okay, guys,” he said. They didn’t move. Dean focused in on the only one likely to listen to him. “Cas?”

“She wiped out an entire state.”

“Not an important one,” said Dean, which just got him a glare before Cas focused back in on the Darkness. She didn’t look threatened, though she clearly didn’t appreciate the way they were treating her either. Charlie and Jo looked back and forth between the action. Jo had her gun out, and Charlie had grabbed the heaviest book near her, which Bobby rolled his eyes at despite the tension in the room. That girl still had a lot to learn. Not that the gun would do any more use than the book, now that he thought about it. “Look, Cas, I need you to trust me. Amara’s not going to be a problem for us. She’s not some one note villain that wants world domination. Maybe hear her out.”

“Amara?”

“It was the first name she liked off of bouncingbabynames,com.”

“You gave her a name? She’s a pretemporal force of mass destruction, not a lost dog you found on the side of the road.”

“Wait since when do we have a dog?” asked Sam who had emerged from his self imposed exile at the commotion. He paused where he stood on the stairs. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say we don’t like her?”

“No we do like her,” said Dean. Sam looked at the angels, still looking as though they were two seconds away from attacking Amara and then back to Dean.

“The evidence would suggest otherwise but I’m willing to hear your argument.”

Dean decided from this point on to ignore Sam because he was not fucking helping.

“Trust me,” he said instead to Castiel. He could see how conflicted Castiel was between what he thought was the right thing to do and listening to Dean. His grip on the blade tightened until he pushed it back up his sleeve with a motion that was too frustrated to be natural. “Thank you.”

“I still don’t trust her,” Cas said flatly. Gabriel and Samandriel had reluctantly followed suit though Gabriel still was staring bloody murder at Amara. Dean would tell him to chill, but he was pretty sure if Gabriel retaliated against him Amara would do something that would set each of them back a long way to resolving everything peacefully.

“Well, you don’t have to,” said Dean. “I figured that Amara doesn’t know which way is which yet. She doesn’t understand why what she did has all of you so pissed off. So I thought I’d give her the opportunity of talking to a couple of you so she can understand what’s going on from different viewpoints,” he looked toward Jo’s surprised face and then mouthed to her “I learned it from Dr. Phil.”

Jo nodded and then waited. Dean Winchester watching Dr. Phil was not the weirdest thing that had happened that day she supposed.

“I agreed to listen,” Amara confirmed. Her eyes had roved the room in wonder, taking in the curious details piece by piece until she built for herself a picture of the man who lived there. It was fascinating how the elements came together to form a picture. She had found herself more and more fascinated with her brother’s creation and found it ever more unlikely that he had allowed it to go on. Everything his first creations had been, obedient, prayerful, and worshipful seemed to be opposed in the most beautiful of ways in even just this one home.

She spoke with the angels first. That had gone about as well as could be expected. Amara and Castiel had bickered, since both of them seemed to determined to misread everything the other said. Gabriel had outright refused to speak with her, and instead gone to the kitchen, likely to make sure nothing had happened to Jesse. Castiel had clearly been glad about this because that meant he didn’t need to worry about Claire while he spoke with Amara. Dean learned very quickly that Amara did not understand either sarcasm or Castiel all that well. Samandriel on the other hand she was better able to connect to. His story of being tortured in heaven and how he had come to be on Earth had startled her into silent contemplation. For the first time, Dean thought at least, she seemed to feel a measure of sympathy for the angels. And she opened up in turn. Pain for her was all consuming, and the way God had betrayed her, her own brother, had not lessened in her memory over the many years she had been gone from the universe. And so Samandriel had gone on to say that sometimes we need to forgive the people who hurt us, not because they deserve it but because we do. Dean was satisfied with the conversation at this point and the silence that had fallen over Castiel at hearing Amara’s side of the story. He stopped beside Dean before he left the room and then suggested that Meg speak with Amara as well.

Then Jo, Sam, and Charlie walked in, making up the humans that were going to talk to God’s sister. That conversation went much smoother than the first. Jo and Charlie both were in forgiving frames of mind, and Dean had a feeling Charlie really wanted Amara not to be the bad guy, because that would mean what had happened hadn’t been quite that bad in the grand scheme of things. Jo on the other hand knew just like Dean did what exactly hell felt like. Sympathy was easy for her to give to Amara, as was the idea of possibly not being wanted by her brother at the moment. Only Sam had looked at the situation with any kind of rationality, but even he had agreed to the assessment that although Amara was a threat, she didn’t seem particularly inclined to injure without cause. Her need to feed off souls was something they agreed they needed to discuss, and come up with a plan for her. Amara had asked this time to speak with Sam alone. Dean still stood at the door and watched.

“You are conflicted,” she said to him. “I sense your thoughts and I wanted to offer my help for your dilemma. I can take your soul from you and you can be as you were, if you would like.”

The thought that Amara could do that had not even occurred to Sam surprisingly. It shocked him how easily he thought ‘no,’ too. A couple months back he would have agreed without hesitation, but over time he no longer separated those two parts of himself. He had become something in the middle of what he had been and what his soul would have made him. It had happened so slowly he’d barely realized until just that moment how thoroughly both sides of him had mixed. He was no longer we, but I. The two personalities had blended to the point that he switched easily between the two methods of thinking, both rational and emotional with the same purpose and let whichever method would better help him better cope with the situation he was in. And while at first he had thought the soul made him weaker, now he realized that those flickers of good emotions he had envied in his soulless state were even better than he had imagined. He didn’t want to give it up.

“Thanks but,” he said with a smile for himself. “No thanks.”

Dean watched the exchange with both surprise and relief. He liked Sam the way he was now, and he was glad he wasn’t going back. He clapped his shoulder on the way out, and Sam nodded to him. Dean supposed you couldn’t pick who your half brother that your dad had never told you about was, but if he could have, he couldn’t have picked much better than Sam.

The last person to speak with Amara was Meg. And that started about how Dean had expected, with Meg bargaining hard to get Amara to go to Lucifer and finish her plan. Amara listened with a kind of confusion, searching Meg’s face—and likely her thoughts—for her reasoning. It took slow examination as Meg continued her spiel for Amara to understand Meg’s position. And when that happened, Amara stole from her something that she probably shouldn’t have. She took her faith, drained it from her in one fell swoop until Meg stopped speaking staring straight ahead in quiet horror. Then, and only then, did Amara begin to speak.

“Lucifer doesn’t care whether any of you live or die. It’s not an angel’s way to care. At least most of the time,” said Amara, correcting herself after a pointed look from Dean.

“She said she would free us,” Meg said, but there was no longer any passion behind it. “Heaven would be ours.”

“I trusted Lucifer once,” said Amara. “It is not a mistake I will make again. But Meg, what is it you want for those that reside in hell. Heaven? Or peace?”

“I just… I wanted…” Meg shook her head in quiet anger. “I worked so hard for this, it can’t all have been for nothing. It just can’t have been, damn it.”

Where the doubt had come from, Meg didn’t know then. But it was pulled from threads of smaller doubts she had ignored in her years of service to Lucifer and suddenly it seemed so clear how Lucifer had taken advantage of her. Said all the right words and kept her hoping for something. For… peace.

“Meg?” Amara said. “I can do this at least. Let me do for you what my she can not.”

Dean jumped when Amara disappeared. He had no idea what she planned to do and was more than a little bit worried that it would be something rash. He exchanged a short glance with Meg before both of them were making their way back to Bobby’s living room to see if anything world shattering was happening. Nothing was. Nobody knew where Amara was and Castiel gave Dean a look that said fairly clearly ‘I told you so’ which Dean elected to ignore.

And then Dean felt it. The tug of hell, ever present and ugly was gone. He looked to Meg and knew she had felt it as well. The angels realized next and exchanged confused glances. Because hell was totally and wholly gone. Where it had existed had disappeared without any explanation. The conclusion that Amara was responsible for this wasn’t a hard one to draw. It was even less hard to come up with when Amara returned, practically glowing with power.

“I have fed,” she said. “And require no more sustenance.”

Well that pretty much just solved all of their problems. Forget deux ex machina, Amara ex machina was where shit got taken care of.

“And the souls?” Meg asked, not upset if they had been destroyed but curious all the same.

“They’re at peace within me. They’re at rest.”

And sure there was something hollowing about having your life’s purpose taken away, but it was in a good way. Meg felt everything loosen until she cracked a smile that was definitely in the top five of her least sarcastic smiles. Amara returned it tentatively, as though not quite understanding the gesture but wanting to learn.

And so they celebrated. Don’t misunderstand it was an uneasy celebration, but really Amara wasn’t much worse than if your weirdo aunt showed up to a family gathering. Gabriel still wouldn’t speak to her—had even resorted talking to Meg to avoid it—but he stuck around. Claire and Jesse monopolized Amara’s time since they hadn’t been able to speak with her and Jesse was curious about what exactly being a primordial force felt like. Dean caught Sam eavesdropping on that conversation and taking notes. It was good to see some things never changed.

Samandriel meanwhile had left to return to the angels that had followed him to call off any action being taken against Amara, having decided she wasn’t a threat. He promised to report the news to Balthazar as well, which Castiel thanked him for.

Charlie and Jo had a couple of drinks and then Jo decided to roll out. Charlie didn’t say anything about that, though when she didn’t immediately follow Jo out the hunter turned around and stared at her expectantly.

“I’m not going home,” Charlie had said slurring slightly. She had had more to drink than Jo had. “If you take me, I’ll go back to Kansas and you can’t stop me.”

Jo rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“Yeah, I know. Which is why I’m going to teach you how to be a god damn hunter you stubborn idiot. Now are you coming or what?”

Charlie took a few seconds to run that through her head.

“You mean for realsies?” she asked. Jo’s mouth twitched for a second in an aborted smile before she sighed resignedly.

“Well last time I left you somewhere you got kidnapped, so yeah, ‘for realsies’,” said Jo. “Now go get in the fucking car.”

Charlie had complied eagerly if drunkenly, clearly thrilled to have been invited along. Jo watched her with a small smile before bidding Bobby goodbye. Bobby had spent the entire party on the line with Rufus explaining that the world wasn’t ending and yes they were going to let Ohio go because they couldn’t kill God’s god damn sister, okay?

And yes, Amara returned Ohio to it’s former self after urging from Samandriel, but its not like either of them knew that. Newscasters the world across were very confused and dismissed the entire event as doctored photographs and mass polluting of the water in Ohio with hallucinogenics, which apparently was more believable than a supernatural occurrence. If nothing else this proved that humans were a strange species.

Jo had wished Dean goodbye too, and nodded in Castiel’s direction before finally making her way out the door. Hopefully toward some happiness, but in the hunting life you never knew.

And now for the most important part of the night. When Dean said the four most important words in any relationship.

“I told you so.”

If you guessed this was said to a certain angel of the lord, you would be one hundred percent correct.

“I never doubted you,” said Castiel. Dean raised an eyebrow. “Her, certainly. I’m glad you were right and I wasn’t. But Dean, I do trust you. I hope you know that.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re drunk.”

“That is one interpretation of the situation. It could also be because I want to get on your good side.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” said Dean having a pretty good idea why that might be. Not seeing eye to eye with Castiel for such a long time meant that certain stress relieving activities that had been occurring fairly regularly had stopped occurring and had not yet happened when they’d sorted out their relationship. And by certain things, Dean means sex. If that wasn’t clear. “Did you want something?”

And well they didn’t stick around too long after that. Which had Claire quietly pretending to puke when she noticed. Jesse had laughed at her reaction and taken her hand, squeezing for a moment before he went back to talking with Amara.

And Bobby sat in his chair with a beer and thought through all that had happened in that rollercoaster of a day, and for the first time in a long time, felt pretty damn good about everything.

*******************

“So what do we do now?” asked Dean later that same night. He had a pretty decent view of a naked angel standing near the edge of a cliff that hung over a forest that stretched for miles below. It was asked seriously but for all Dean cared Cas could have answered it with silence. Instead Castiel had pondered the question and identified the one loose thread that could still bring everything to ruin. No one gives up on their dreams easily, and Castiel could afford to compromise what he wanted to do for the sake of what must be done. He couldn’t kill Lucifer, nor could he kill the ideas Lucifer had planted. There were many that wanted what the devil did, and wouldn’t rest until they had it. So Castiel knew the final thing they needed to do before they would be free of the entire mess. Free to do what they pleased without interruption or politics. He smiled at the thought.

“Now we find God.”

And with a sky full of stars and satisfaction thrumming through both of their veins, it seemed possible, and not for one moment did either angel or demon wonder what might happen if they didn’t succeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just wanted to take a second and thank everyone who has read this, and especially the awesome sauce people that left kudos and comments. I have never written anything this long before and without the encouragement I probably never would have put this much plot into what started out as: What if I made Team Free Will as fucked up as possible (within my admittedly humorous method of doing so)? You guys are great, and I hope you enjoyed this penultimate chapter. And yes I say penultimate. Don't judge. Series of Unfortunate Events was my jam as a kid.
> 
> On an unrelated note, I listened to Lower Your Expectation by Bo Burnham so many times while writing this. So there's a sample of the author's life decisions for your entertainment.
> 
> Have a nice night/morning/2 am.


	26. Let's Wrap This Up with a Bow and Call It an Ending

Lucifer was not happy to have her cause hijacked, but with Amara firmly on Dean’s side, she had to accept if she wanted to be a part of the group that found God, she was going to have to play nice. This of course meant agreeing to a few ground rules, which Samandriel helpfully provided for everyone that was going to be involved in their efforts to contact God. These rules were sworn in by spells that were powerful enough to kill any that didn’t follow them, which had been at Gabriel’s insistence. For one thing, there was an absolute truce as long as what had been affectionately dubbed by Dean as “the weird ass prayer circle” lasted. Which meant no infighting. Another one of Samandriel’s rules was that they agreed to return to heaven if their vessel no longer wanted to be possessed and no angel who attended could make threats against their vessels to ensure this outcome. Finally, once they had contacted God, Lucifer specifically wasn’t allowed to go after anyone who was involved in the plan. Lucifer and seventy other angels agreed to these conditions and were now stood in four circles. At the center of these different circles were three archangels and Castiel, who as the only angel that had been repeatedly reborn was voted as a replacement for Raphael, albeit grudgingly. Amara herself was at the center of these four circles, evenly spaced around her.

Dean was still trying to ignore the fact that at the center of one of the circles stood his father, possessed by Michael the archangel.

It was Ramadan, according to Cas, which meant that the amount of prayer directed towards God was already higher than usual. Natural fluctuations in prayer occurred through out the year depending on where different holidays fell and the amount of people that followed different sects or religions. There were hotspot days of course, but the entire month of Ramadan was always especially high. As far as Dean understood it, this meant that they could attempt to overload God’s system with prayer by hyper focusing their own little prayer circle thing with geometric patterns… and Dean had stopped paying attention by this point. Whatever they were doing, it had been a few hours, and nothing had happened yet.

“Is anyone else bored?” he asked. Meg ignored him. Sam looked up at him in surprise.

“Are you kidding? I still haven’t gotten the implications of all of this down. There’s a chance we can use the math they needed in order to form the circles against monsters in future hunts. I never realized before how linked these symbols, the angles they formed, and the interconnecting lines were to certain magic numbers if you will within different mythologies. If we can crack some kind of code with this, it’s possible that-“

“Is anyone else really bored?” Dean said louder talking over his brother who just rolled his eyes and went back to scribbling furiously in his notebook. He didn’t envy Claire’s job trying to make sense of it all later.

“I’m bored,” Claire agreed. Jesse frowned and poked her, which had her smacking away his hand with a smile. “Food break? I got a feeling they’re going to be here a while.”

“Now that is a fantastic idea. I always knew you were the smartest, Claire. So where do we want to go? Maybe we could down to Five G-“

Dean broke off mid-sentence when he realized everything around him had changed. Where before he had been standing in the shadow of the Appalachians, now he was in a small diner. It was just big enough to be workable, but everything about it was cozy and spoke of small town values. False light trickled in through the windows onto the bright red upholstery, and the table tops and counters gleamed brightly. Poodle skirts of various colors hung from the walls next to cartoon pictures of Betty Boop. It smelt like old coffee, and the unmistakeable scent of bacon and pancakes sizzling on a griddle in the kitchen. Dean blinked, but when he opened his eyes he was still in the diner. He carefully lifted up the part of the counter that was on hinges, and then headed over to the kitchen door and opened it. Inside was a man with a beard in a hoodie. He took a sip of coffee and then looked up.

“Pancakes?”

*****************

Claire and Jesse stared at the space where Dean had been, waiting for him to reappear. He didn’t. Claire smacked Sam so that he would stop drawing geometric shapes. Meg examined her nails, but no one cared what she thought anyway.

“Your brother’s missing,” she said when he glared at her. “He was talking to me and Jesse and then he just disappeared out of nowhere.”

“We were going to go and get food Claire,” Jesse pointed out.

“Oh c’mon. Dean wanted a break from the absolute boring nothing that’s going on over there. He wouldn’t have left without us, and he certainly wouldn’t have teleported there. He likes driving.”

“I’m with squirt on this one,” Meg said casually. Claire wondered if it would break the truce if she were to shoot Meg with the gun Dean had given her a few days ago for her birthday. She decided not to risk it. Yet.

Sam considered this all for a moment before deciding that he agreed with Claire.

“Well,” said Sam after a second. “What do we do?”

Claire was already going over to the center of the ritual, or Amara. Sam swore, because they had been specifically told not to disrupt this prayer circle thing about a hundred and five times. And that was accurate because Sam had been counting.

“Amara,” she said, breaking the Darkness’ concentration. Amara looked down at her, and Claire almost out of pure instinct stood up straighter at the stare. There was nothing in her face that gave away the fact that she was angry. Claire could still feel it though, and something else that had been building in the air was broken. Amara sighed, and let the anger go slowly. It rolled from her in smooth waves of flickering air. It made the hairs on the back of Claire’s arm stand up. She went forward with what she was going to say anyway.

“Dean’s missing.”

“I know,” Amara said as though it were obvious. “I was attempting to track him before you interrupted me. Luckily for you it was impossible, otherwise you might have been what cost us our entire mission.”

Jesse had slowly pushed between Amara and Claire, knowing that Claire had an unfortunate habit of forgetting that she wasn’t immortal like Dean used to be and others could kill her for angering them.

“And we’re sorry about that,” Jesse said. “But do you think you could maybe tell us where Dean is. Is he okay? Is he alive?”

Amara waited a moment before answering.

“He is with God now,” she said definitively.

“That’s what you say when someone dies, shit for brains,” Claire muttered. Jesse elbowed her. “What? It is.”

“He’s not dead. I don’t know if God intends to kill him however. I would bring simply him back, so I doubt my brother would do so. It would be a futile action.”

“Well, what do we do now?” asked Jesse before Claire could retort angrily. “We’ve clearly gotten God’s attention. We can’t force him to come here. And you’ve spent hours on this already.”

“My brother will choose whether or not he wants to come to us,” Amara said. It was right about then that the angels began to break formation, having realized that the ritual had been broken. “We must wait here for him.”

“Claire, what’s happening?” asked Castiel a moment later. “Where’s Dean?”

**************

Dean took the pancakes. So sue him. He sat behind the counter on one of the round stools and munched on a piece of bacon as he tried to place the face before him. He was finished with his third piece before he figured it out.

“You… are Carver Edlund. I saw your picture in Charlie’s book.”

“I go by Chuck actually,” Chuck said, watching syrup pour onto his pancakes with the kind of fascination usually reserved for car crashes. He spread the syrup across his pancakes with quick violent strokes of his knife and then cut into them, syrup oozing into the wounds like blood.

Give Dean a break about the violent imagery. He hadn’t killed anybody in a while, and even with the itch gone he could still feel the empty place where Amara had created his extreme bloodlust so he would go out and collect souls for her to feed on.

“Right. Chuck. The prophet,” Dean took a bite out of his pancakes. They were good. Almost as good as the bacon. “Can I call bullshit on that yet, or do you have to act vaguely creepy for another few minutes first?”

“You know I wished I’d written you in sometimes,” Chuck said. “I mean, I had notes on you like most of Jo’s friends, but maybe I mentioned your name in one of the earlier books? Maybe you featured? I can’t remember. But sometimes I wish I’d really put you in. You made a good tragic figure, and I did have a few notes.”

“Who are you, Chuck?” Dean asked, breaking into the man’s musings. Chuck took another sip of his coffee. Dean noticed for the first time that it said World’s Greatest Dad.

“You’re smart Dean. I’m sure you’ve guessed.”

Fair enough.

“Why me?” Dean asked. It was a fair enough question. “Out of everybody who’s dying to talk to you, why pick the asshole demon who couldn’t give a shit whether you answered the call or not?”

Chuck nodded seriously and set his coffee down.

“Have you read the bible?” he asked. “It’s not terribly accurate really, but it does get a couple of things right. For one, I don’t do personal appearances. And I’m not about to go down there and explain myself. So you are going to act as an ambassador of sorts for me.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t answer my question. Why me?” Dean repeated.

“Because you’re both dark and light, and I need someone to go between me and, well, everyone else,” said Chuck. “Because I need someone who can see both sides of the story and say what needs to be said. Because you don’t love me, or want anything from me. I was going for… a less biased view, let’s say.”

“Less biased view, my ass. I think you’re a total dick.”

“Okay, that’s not fair right there. I am not a total dick. I mean, I’ve made mistakes, but who hasn’t? You? I’m the reason you’re even walking around right now. What do you think the chances are that in all of hell, Cain would find you?”

Yeah, telling someone that you manipulated events in their life was a great way to get on their good side.

“You let one person out of hell. I don’t think that makes up for the Apocalypse. Or your terrible parenting skills.”

“I let more than one person out of hell,” Chuck corrected with a frown. “You and Jo. And demons get out all the time.”

“And then they get killed by hunters. You created a place where fucked up people get more and more fucked up, and then you sent your own son there. I mean Lucifer is a real piece of work, don’t get me wrong, but did she really deserve that? And Amara? What the fuck did she do?”

“She destroyed everything. Always. She wouldn’t let me do anything. You wouldn’t be here if she’d gotten what she wanted. And you know what? I didn’t invite you here to ask questions. I invited you here to deliver a message. And the message is back off.”

“That’s it?” Dean asked. Chuck sighed and went back to eating his pancakes.

“Ideally we figure out a way that stops them from looking for me again. Do you know how annoying it is to hear constant prayers for help, for guidance, for revelation?”

“Oh, boohoo,” Dean muttered. “You could fix anything you wanted to with a snap of your fingers. I’m so sorry people ask you do actually do shit.”

Chuck looked up at him, his eyes glowing a little bit in anger.

“I don’t owe any of you anything. You don’t get to ask me fix your mistakes.”

“You set up the game. You gave us the flaws and the capacity for pain that could break us. The least you could do as far as I see it is answer the phone every once in a while. At least for the angels, I mean they are tearing each other apart. And it’s all because you didn’t build them with the understanding that they could make decisions for themselves and then you walked out on them. Do you really not get how fucked that is?”

“I tried with them. All they ever did was disappoint me. Do you want to know why I don’t answer prayers? All anyone keeps asking me is why? Why do I exist? Why do bad things happen to me? Why is this my life? What was I supposed to say to them? Sorry for the inconvenience?”

The diner rumbled ominously as God spoke and Dean remembered at that moment he wasn’t exactly immortal anymore and even if he was, God was probably an exception to the whole not being able to kill him thing. He decided to change the subject.

“So what’s with the diner dude?” Dean asked. It acted as a sufficient distraction.

“Is that what you see?” Chuck asked, smiling softly. “That makes sense. This whole place works off the same software heaven does. It’s a different kind of establishment when I look around.”

“What kind?” Dean asked and he was pretty sure he had it figured out now. Get Chuck talking about people or places, he wasn’t as hostile. Ask him about the guy himself, expect divine wrath to start peeking through.

“A place of music. I always liked music. The angels, they made that. But humans, they perfected it. I’m not even really sure where it comes from.”

“You’re not?”

Chuck frowned as he considered how exactly to explain it.

“Think of it like this. If you have a computer, you can have it do math you don’t have the time or ability to compute, right? In theory, if you grant this computer intelligence, it could go on to create another computer even more powerful than itself, something that is beyond the original creator’s ability to create because of the level of calculation it is able to reach. And so it is here. I created the angel’s grace, and your souls, but I also gave you the intelligence to create for yourselves. And you did. Music and art and poetry. Those are human things because you made them, with your own struggles to find insight in a meaningless universe. I just watched.”

Dean could see the logic in that, now that he thought about it.

“Well that makes sense. I mean your writing isn’t as bad as Charlie says it is, but it’s not exactly Shakespeare either.”

“Hey, I spent a lot of time on those books.”

“Yeah, well I don’t think anyone involved appreciated it. Jo already hates your guts, when she finds out that you were God she is going to castrate you.”

“And that’s why I don’t make public appearances,” said Chuck. He took out a pencil and a piece of paper and laid it on the table and then started writing. He dictated out loud as he jotted down he words. “Here is what I think you should say: God has sent Dean Winchester forward to his children in order to tell them that they are free to do as they please and he plans no further communication with them. To his sister, he is glad she has seen the error in her ways and plans to exist peacefully in God’s creation. To all others concerned, do as you please. I would ask you to be kind, but the last time I tried that you nailed my kid to a block of wood. You are on your own.”

Chuck looked up.

“What do you think?” he asked. Dean stared.

“I think that sounds about as condescending as you can get. I mean, you could try not acting like you’re better than everyone else.”

“If you think it’s so bad why don’t you write it then,” said Chuck, shoving the pencil at Dean. Dean picked it up and thought for about five seconds.

I’m sorry.

He passed it back. God scratched it out.

“Not interested. I had nothing to do with the way everything turned out. I didn’t ask Lucifer to disobey me. I didn’t ask anyone to kill or rape or murder.”

“The Old Testament begs to differ.”

“I wasn’t… I wasn’t really around for a lot of that,” said Chuck. He looked down, almost guiltily for a God. “I delegated.”

Man, angels really were douchebags. Or at least a couple of them were, and they had taken advantage of heaven’s rules to the point where anyone rejecting the bullshit they were spouting was killed for going against God himself. Dean decided not to think about it at this point. He wasn’t going to be winning any arguments, so instead he took the paper back and looked up at God, resigned to helping him so he could just go home.

“Give me something real to say to them,” he said, pencil poised over the page. “Don’t bullshit this. Think. What is it you really want to say?”

******************

Castiel did not like the fact that Dean had disappeared. It didn’t matter who he was speaking to. God himself would not keep him long if Castiel had anything to say about it.

After Amara had decided that God had received the message and would send some form of reply through Dean, half of the angels had left. Some had left there vessels there at the Appalachians, and others had taken them to some form of transport before returning to heaven. The rest continued to wait. Castiel would have left too, at this point if anyone but Dean were chosen as God’s mouthpiece.

It likely should have angered him that God would not speak to them directly, and perhaps deep inside it did. But mostly, his mind was filled with worry and a hope that Dean would return soon. He had already tried to draw more information from Amara, though he began to sense her growing annoyance. After the third time asking her if she was sure that Dean was still in a different dimension with God, she stopped answering. He did not grow less worried.

Everyone else waited. It was two hours before Dean appeared. He had papers in his hands and he cleared his throat self consciously until everyone noticed him. He waved at Claire which had her rolling her eyes as though she hadn’t been pacing in worry the entire time he’d been gone. Castiel breathed a sigh of relief.

“I, uh, I have a message,” Dean said at last. “I’m not going to repeat myself, so don’t interrupt. Got it?”

Everyone was silent.

“Okay,” Dean said looking down at the papers in his hand. “Amara, you are my sister. I love you. That was simple, when it was just the two of us. But I wanted there to be more in the universe, and you couldn’t accept that. I understand your anger, sister, for my betrayal, but think on this. You see what I’ve done, in all its imperfections, and it’s beautiful. It truly is. I can’t take credit for each facet of its beauty, but without me none of it would be here at all. This place was always meant to be bigger than us. You are still my sister. I still love you. Perhaps someday we’ll find forgiveness for each other’s faults but until then I wish you only peace, which I know you were always most fond of. Thank you for holding my most wretched creations within yourself and granting them what I could not. It is a more charitable outlook than mine that even the worst humanity has to offer deserves repose in death. I hope you find happiness here.”

“My children, I know I’ve asked many things of you. I’ve asked for obedience. I’ve asked for love. I’ve asked for loyalty. I have nothing to ask anymore. Please know this is not out of lack of love but lack of knowledge. I have no better idea what to do than any of you ever have. There is no right or wrong in my line of thinking, and no action any of you take deserves a death sentence merely by committing such an action. I’d ask that you start again and not hold the crimes of yesterday against each other, but as I said, I’m done asking things of you. Do what you think should be done, but don’t do it because you think I want it. I want nothing from you. I grant no help and no punishment. You are truly on your own.”

“As for the humans I know are in your midst, I have only to say continue on. Existence is pain, but sometimes pain can be a gift. I did my best. The rest is up to you. Just know I’m not making anything better.”

“Finally, I have some parting words for all. It’s easy to look at each other’s actions, to look at my actions and declare them monstrous. I’ve certainly heard worse in prayers more than a few times. And they are. There are no heroes, here. Not one man is innocent, not one being, or one god. Find the best of men, and still he or she will have harmed. There’s a little monster in all of us. Try to forgive when you can.”

“To all intents and purposes, God is dead. You can all go home now.”

Dean stopped talking and folded up his paper. No one said anything. He looked up.

“Yeah, I thought quoting Nietzsche was a bit much too, but he insisted, so I just figured-”

Dean was gone before he could finish his sentence. Castiel had taken his hand and disappeared, leaving the rest of the angels in shocked silence. Gabriel took Jesse, Sam, and Claire a moment later, having promised Castiel he would make sure whatever fallout occurred he and his would not have to be a part of it. They were done. With all of it.

Others were not quite so unaffected by God’s final goodbye.

“That’s it?” asked Lucifer. Her voice trembled slightly. “That’s all he had to say? That’s not acceptable. Why won’t he come down and say that to my face? After what he did to me!”

“Lucifer,” said Michael, calmly. “It’s over. We can return to heaven. We can start over.”

“What, you just forgive him? A few words spoken through a demon puppet and you forgive him? He left us.”

“I know,” said Michael soothingly. “But don’t you see? We can be family for each other. He is trying to make amends by taking away his will from us. Lucifer, return to heaven. Forget your quest. I have missed you so much, brother.”

“I’m staying here,” Lucifer said. “Until he comes I am staying right here.”

Michael sighed.

“Please come home,” he said. Then he left, leaving his vessel where he asked to go. One by one, the other angels followed suit, returning home to heaven, at least for now. But Lucifer remained and she waited.

****************

Amara had listened to Dean speak and accepted as best as she could what was left to her. She reminded herself of Samandriel’s words, that sometimes forgiveness was not about whether you should grant it to someone, but what was best for yourself. So she decided to forgive.

The angels were disappearing as she looked on, and she did not want to be involved in their affairs, so she did not speak with them. She supposed she could go and find Dean, though she was not sure she should. This world was full of rules she had yet to understand, and she was unsure the etiquette of beginning a friendship. She knew also that he had not forgiven her for the harm she had unwittingly caused him.

She broke from her thoughts when the other demon spoke. Amara remembered her name was Meg.

“So, what are you going to do now?” asked the demon. “I don’t think God’s coming down any time soon.”

“No, I don’t think he is,” Amara agreed. “I was thinking on some things. My brother, he is many things-“

“A total dick?”

“-and insightful is one of them. He wished me peace. But this world, it is full of pain. Restless souls that injure and maim out of fear and anger. Spirits that are grown out of the bitterness of the dead. I could take them too, and soothe them. It seems a worthy goal. A way to make my own mark on this creation. I am the darkness of the womb, the safety of solitude, and the reassurance of the very old. Yes, I think that is what I shall be. Someone to take in those that have been consigned to the shadows. Who have been abandoned or left behind.”

Meg watched Amara’s impassive face and wondered how long that little goal was going to last. God had gotten bored eventually, trying to take care of everybody. It stood to reason Amara would too. And after she had lost her faith in Lucifer, it was hard to believe anyone meant what they said in regards to making past wrongs right. Then again, she wanted this time so badly to believe.

“Well, good luck with that I guess,” she said. Amara did not leave though. Instead she stood beside Meg.

“I will need guidance,” Amara said after a few moments. “And help navigating this new world. I do not know it.”

“Isn’t that Dean’s job?” snorted Meg. Amara sighed and shook her head.

“You need peace. I promised I would give that to you,” she said, and then knowing it to be true. “Dean does not. What he needs he has already found. If he is ever in need of me I will go to him, but for now I need not worry, and I suspect he would rather I not interfere in his contentment. But I need someone to help me understand this world. So Meg, will you join me?”

Amara held out her hand, not knowing any other gesture to request companionship. Meg looked down at it in amusement and figured what the hell. She took it.

“Sure thing, princess,” she muttered, smiling at Amara’s confusion. “I can show you the world.”

But first thing on the list was a god damn hot spring or something because Meg had centuries of stress to get out before she picked up this new mission. Then again, maybe it wouldn’t be that bad this time. After all, for once she wouldn’t be working alone.

******************

Bobby did not like it when people broke into his house. There was a reason he had a near endless supply of holy water ready for when Dean did so. When he heard the crashing near the front door, he was ready with holy water and a knife, and was quick to use the holy water. When it didn’t sizzle, he paused long enough to see a startled looking John Winchester standing there. He froze, confused.

“Long time no see,” John said after a few seconds of staring.

“I thought you went missing, you old bastard,” Bobby said, recovering at last. He looked at John warily. He seemed twitchy, and not entirely himself, though Bobby hadn’t seen him in the flesh in years. Too much shit under the bridge. Too much anger that John never asked for any kind of forgiveness from him, or even tried reaching out.

John wasn’t usually a man to search for words. In most cases he knew them, knew exactly what to say down to the last letter. There was an order to his world that he was used to, a kind of obedience to authority and duty that had taken away any need to do the searching. But he searched for words now and found them.

“Remember, Bobby, that weekend before you married Karen,” he said. “When you and Rufus and I went down to that shitty little bar and we drank until three in the morning. And then, uh, and then Rufus went out and stole, god damn it he stole-“

John paused trying to remember.

“A chicken.”

“Oh yeah. He did,” said John with a laugh. “And we got chased by the farmer on foot through two counties I think. I don’t think I ever had more fun my whole life.”

Bobby was still confused.

“John are you okay?”

“I just had a lot of time to think, recently. I was stuck in my head, Bobby. And there was nothing I could do about it, you know? So I just had to think and think, and I… I think I might be done. I think I quit.”

Locked in his head sounded a lot like possession, but Bobby had a feeling his old friend didn’t want to talk about that right now.

“Look, how about I get you something to drink, and you sit the hell down.”

John did so. He sat with his back straight as a board as usual. Bobby passed him a beer and watched as the man took several long sips. After a few minutes, he started to relax slightly.

“Didn’t you say you’d shoot me if I ever came near your house again?” he asked after a little while. Bobby shrugged.

“Probably. I think I said a lot things last time I saw you.”

“Eleven years ago.”

“Give or take,” Bobby confirmed. John cleared his throat and looked down.

“Think I could stay here a few days?” he asked lowly, as though it didn’t matter what the answer was. “Like I said, I think I’m done working. I think I’ll, I don’t know, maybe I’ll do what you did. Hole up somewhere and answer phone calls.”

“Oh, I wish that was the worst I had to do,” Bobby muttered. “Couch has your name on it.”

“I mean it. I’m done.”

Sure he was. Whatever revelation he had had, Bobby didn’t trust it to stick. John Winchester liked his routines. Bobby had known that since they were young men training to get into the Men of Letters together. He took pride in the ritual of it all, while Bobby had always seen it as something to get through so he could start his real work. They’d always been different, but they’d managed a friendship out of it anyway. Back then, at least.

“Just get some sleep. You can call Rufus in the morning.”

John snorted at Bobby’s dismissive tone.

“I could still shoot you, you know,” Bobby said, irritated with his reaction.

“I’ve missed you all these years,” said John, ignoring the threat. “You know that was a hard thing, right? Almost losing Katie, then ten years later losing Dean, and then you walked out of my life too?”

“John, I’m not the only one with a phone,” Bobby pointed out. “You could have called.”

“Yeah, I guess I could have,” said John. “I… I realized I have regrets. Things I wished I’d done differently. People I wish I’d…”

John trailed off. Bobby took pity on the guy.

“I might have missed you too. Sometimes. When you weren’t being an idiot. Listen, stay until you figure this shit out. Whatever happened, I’ll help you with it. Sound good?”

“You’re a good man, Bobby Singer,” said John. He lay down then to go to sleep and Bobby left the room, muttering under his breath:

“Yeah, that’s what they tell me.”

*******************

There was a reason that Dean’s little powwow with God had taken so damn long. And it wasn’t just that getting the guy to show a little empathy was like pulling teeth. After they were done, Dean had decided for the sake of his sanity to get in a few questions. Sure, he figured Chuck could smite him for it, but there were a few things he felt he should know.

He had started out with the most important of the few questions he had thought up.

“When I met Sam and Cas, was that you?” he had said as soon as they had finished God’s farewell speech.

“Yes,” he said simply. “I needed someone to carry the mark, and Amara fed on souls, but… the happiness of the person with the mark helps satisfy the same hunger. Cain was miserable after Colette had died and he wasn’t feeding her. It was a disaster waiting to happen.”

“So… so me and Cas did you make that happen?”

“I put you all in one place and hoped for the best. That’s the extent of my interference. I gave you all free will for a reason. Now,” said Chuck, pausing as he considered. “Did I see it coming? Probably yes. Or possibly no. I don’t remember. But I never changed anything internally. Your thoughts and actions are your own.”

“You mean that?”

“I do.”

Well, Dean was going to breathe easier at night knowing that God hadn’t interfered with his mind. He supposed he could be angry with Chuck for doing anything in the first place, but then he figured that he didn’t want a different outcome when it came to meeting either Cas or Sam. Best not to question a gift horse too closely, especially when the person you’re getting it from could wipe existence away in a fraction of a second.

“Anything else?” Chuck prompted. “There are some popular ones. You’ve already asked one. ‘Why me?’, remember?”

Dean shrugged.

“I never claimed to be original,” he said. “I guess, out of curiosity, why did you let us keep going? You didn’t have to. If you think we’re all such failures, why let anything run its course? I mean, why not just start over?”

“Would you want me to do that?” Chuck asked with an eyebrow raised.

“Well, no, but it’s not a crime to wonder.”

And well, Chuck supposed Dean had been through a lot in his life. And Chuck was a storyteller, when all was said and done. So he told him everything.

He told him about the beginning, when he first created Michael, and then Raphael, and then Gabriel, and finally Lucifer, each a fraction of a second a part. Michael he granted the most power, but to Lucifer he had given almost as much. He remembered now that Amara had called Lucifer the first of his sons when she saw her, and even then Chuck knew he had always loved her the most of his children.

Amara had been able to stomach this, though barely. She did not like the noise, or the light they brought. It disturbed her, but she held her tongue at first, not wanting to argue with her brother, the only being she could think to love in an almost empty and infinite expanse of space.

But then Chuck had started filling it, bit by bit, toying with his curious inventions. Delight had filled his heart and she had grown more and more jealous until she finally asked him to stop. He didn’t, so she swallowed one of the worlds he had created. And that’s when he’d locked her away.

But in order to stay that way, someone needed to bear the weight of her imprisonment, and Chuck couldn’t do it himself, so the task had fallen to the brightest of all his creations.

You have to understand, Lucifer was the first to show spark. Every quality that seemed so horrific in its excess had been eloquent and innovative in its inception. Chuck had been charmed with her forays into pride, her small rebellions, and most of all her discovery of love. He had created the angels to love dutifully, as a result of their service to him, but she had broken through this. She loved Gabriel and taught him her tricks, spending millennia on different planes of existence, teasing her brother and being teased in return. She loved Raphael, and annoyed her frequently, in an attempt to win returning affection which was cautiously granted. And she loved Michael, who himself found the qualities of duty and service increasing tenfold when his brother was near. Her protection and guidance became his answering obsession. She was the first source of everything of both terror and beauty in the world. And most of all, she loved God. More than anything.

But Amara had slowly driven Lucifer mad for what had been done to her.

And when God had created something new, something innocent and mindless, after years of toil and observation he found for the first time since that same spark. Other animals had been intelligent. There were other worlds that had had civilizations much greater than man had ever created, but here on Earth was the first replication of that initial innovative spirit. It felt like the pinnacle of his life’s work and he had asked the angels to protect and guide and love them. And Lucifer had said no.

Chuck skipped what had happened next. Dean wasn’t surprised. It didn’t portray him in the best light. Instead he spoke of how humanity had developed in leaps and bounds, and how often they had acted in ways that disappointed him. How often he just longed to weed them out and start over, with something uncorrupted. A picture began to form in Dean’s mind as God spoke until he had a pretty good idea of why exactly he’d put together an Apocalypse, let it be thwarted, let common evils go unchecked and in general allowed free will.

“You still miss her,” Dean said out loud. “Every one of us reminds you of her and that’s why you never got rid of us, no matter how bad it got. Demons, humans, as long as she was locked up that was all you had. All you ever will have, because you can’t apologize.”

“Oh, c’mon, that’s not-“

“You can’t apologize because you still think you were right. That you did the right thing, no matter how much it hurt her or how fucked up she got because of it. It wasn’t your fault right? You were just trying to do the right thing. Just trying to show her that disobedience has consequences, you fucking-”

“I’m not your father, Dean,” said Chuck cutting into his tirade wearily. “And I don’t appreciate the lecture.”

It shut Dean up for a second, but only a second. Hey, who in their life hasn’t wanted to try to convince God to see something the other way? And if there was anyone who really thought he could do it, Dean Winchester would be the guy.

“Look, I don’t like Lucifer. If I had the opportunity to take a swipe at her I probably would. But I still know she doesn’t deserve this bullshit. Because you trying to separate yourself from her, from everything even? That’s not about us. That’s about you. You aren’t mad at her, you’re mad at yourself and you don’t want to face it because if you do you have to admit that maybe, just maybe, you were wrong. You’re telling me you’re not like my father? Prove it.”

That was around when Chuck had snapped his fingers and sent Dean back to Earth to deliver his message. He had watched safely from his haven as the angels left, one by one until only Lucifer was left, staring heavenward and waiting. He watched until the moon came out and the stars shone down on her and still she didn’t move, trying by pure will alone to bring God to her. It was the third day of this waiting when Chuck went. At first Lucifer didn’t notice, she was so concentrated on prayer.

Then she did, and Chuck found his will weakening when she looked at him. There was such anger and anguish, such torment that he walked up to her and hugged her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as she called him he worst names she could think of, one from every tongue known to man or beast, and Chuck finally found it in himself to say the words he had been avoiding for so long.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Lucifer fell silent at that, and Chuck tightened his hold momentarily before stepping back. “I am so sorry.”

Lucifer returned to heaven, knowing that at last she could find a kind of rest. Her brother was waiting for her, and he greeted her with great relief that she had joined him. She resolved not to mess with Earth’s affairs for a while. At least until she got bored. But for the moment, at least, all was well.

*****************

Claire was sleeping with her head in Jesse’s lap. She had spent quite a bit of the drive reading over Sam’s notes and asking questions so she could grasp exactly what Sam was getting at. Despite not really getting very far in her education, Claire had been able to conceptualize what Sam was saying fairly well. Jesse had had to help with some of the math, but the abstract concepts Sam had been able to come up with based on his observations were surprisingly easy for Claire to understand. After decoding and clarifying what Sam had written, she had declared herself tired and proceeded to go to sleep. Sam had taken his laptop back and kept typing.

He had talked to Jesse for a bit about the fact that Eileen had a friend in publishing and he was pretty sure he’d be sending in the first volume of the book he had been writing for over a year at some point to her. Jesse wondered what people would make of it. Hunter’s would know that it was legitimate, but the rest of the world would think it a strange compilation of fictional lives, off color humor, and fantastical lore. Oh and ridiculously descriptive passages about what happens to monsters when you dissect them. Jesse was pretty sure he himself wouldn’t read it in its entirety, but to each their own.

Sam had done this for a few hours before finally calling it a night and also sleeping. Still, Dean drove on. Jesse traced a line up and down one of Claire’s arms and thought, unable to sleep. He had said goodbye to Gabriel earlier, not permanently, but for a while. He had promised to stop in every once in a while, but Jesse had the feeling that unlike when he had first ran away this was a growing up kind of saying goodbye. Before he supposed he’d always had the option of going back to Bobby’s if anything went wrong but as he had spent more and more time with Claire and Sam and Dean and Cas, he had felt his sense of home change. He didn’t love Gabriel or Bobby any less, but it had been time to decisively move on and that’s what Jesse was doing now. It wasn’t a rejection, it was just a change.

And Gabriel had left him with his knife, too, warning him not to poke his eye out or do anything stupid. Jesse wasn’t an idiot. An archangel’s blade was not something that was given away lightly, and it made him proud to know that Gabriel trusted him with it.

While he was musing he supposed that Castiel and Dean must have thought he had fallen asleep, because they began speaking.

“Hey Cas?”

Cas, who had been staring out the window at the stars above looked back at Dean with a frown on his face.

“Lucifer has returned to Heaven. Not that that’s any business of ours,” he said. Dean shrugged and then Castiel seemed to realize Dean had probably wanted to say something to him. “What is it?’

“You know, when I talked to Chuck, I asked him some things. I just wanted to say that all of this? You and Sam and Claire and Jesse and me? That was all us. No string pulling. No bullshit. Just so you know,” Dean paused when Cas didn’t answer. “Cas?”

“I think I already knew that,” he mused quietly. “I suppose it is good to know for sure, but Dean would it really matter if all of this started with false affections? You said before we are still given choices, every step of the way. Choices to continue on in relationships or to end them and I… well, I have made a series of poor decisions to like you. And will continue to do so, I’m sure, despite the fact my life would certainly have been easier if I hadn’t.”

“Real romantic, Cas,” said Dean. Jesse could almost hear him rolling his eyes.

“What I’m trying to say is that family is a choice we all make eventually. Love, there’s nothing you can do about. You can’t keep it from growing, or stop it from consuming you, but you have a choice in which of the people you love you spend time with. Or you form a deeper connection with. A million little choices add up to it. Forgiving each other, supporting each other in times of crisis that is just a sign of these little choices we made along the way. You chose to straddle the line between human and demon and I chose to be fascinated by it. Claire chose to forgive me piece by piece and she chose to let Jesse get close to her. Sam chose to keep his soul in order to keep the affections he had developed for each of us. You could blame all of this on fate or chance or divine intervention, and certainly they play a role. Perhaps the largest role. But we are not insignificant in our own lives.”

“So just to check, you’re not high right now, are you?” Dean asked after a couple of seconds of silence.

“I haven’t taken anything at the very least,” Cas said, his smile evident in his voice. “Not recently, anyway.”

They switched topics after this and Jesse fell asleep eventually thinking over Castiel’s words. And he was right in many ways. Jesse had picked Claire over everything else at some point and he couldn't see that ending anytime soon. There was no panic at the thought, just acceptance. In fact, it was a rather pleasant thought to fall asleep to.

****************

“Rise and shine, sleepyheads,” said Dean. Nobody woke up. Dean glanced at Castiel who shrugged before he went back to staring out the window. Dean turned the radio up about fifteen notches. That got them.

“What the actual fuck, Dean?” shouted Sam over the loud music. He’d managed to accidentally hit Claire in the face when she’d jumped up so he stopped briefly to apologize to her before continuing with yelling at Dean. “I will dismantle that radio.”

“No you won’t,” Dean said, turning it back down to a livable level. “So, does everybody want to hear about the hunt we’re going on?”

“I’d want to hear about it more if you hadn’t just woken me up like a jackass,” Claire yawned, crossing her arms in annoyance. Dean ignored her with a cheerful grin.

“Have you guys ever heard of vampirates?”

“No,” Claire answered, her voice as dead as she could make it. “That sounds like something you just made up.”

“I did make it up. I am a wordsmith. Like Shakespeare. Isn’t that right, Cas?”

“I still don’t understand why it is so much harder to say vampire pirates than vampirates. It’s one extra syllable, Dean,” Cas replied, huffily. Obviously there had been an argument while everyone else had been asleep. No one was really sorry they’d missed it.

“Anyways,” Dean said loudly, making it as clear as he possibly could that he didn’t care about Cas’ opinion. “I figured after we take these suckers out we could spend a few days at the beach. Have a vacation. Nice little straightforward monster hunt, and then a little r and r. Whose on board?”

Everyone grumpily agreed. They still had a couple of states to go before they reached South Carolina, so Dean turned the music back up a little to minimal complaining.

And it was nice. For the first time in ages, the world wasn’t ending, no one had been royally fucked over, and there were no demons or angels trying to mess with them.

It wouldn’t stay like that forever, it never did, but through thick and thin, the five of them had found and genuinely cared for each other. And maybe it would stay like this for a while. Just them and the open road, the country sprawling ahead of them waiting to be seen.

And sure, they were still going to go around decapitating things, but that was just a given really.

So they drove. A fallen angel, a somewhat redeemed demon, an ex-antichrist, a teenage girl, and a schrodinger’s soulless man all stuck in a car together. It sounded like the beginning of a particularly long winded bad joke. And maybe in a way it was.

The End.

******************

“You don’t get to come if you don’t call them vampirates, Claire.”

“Fuck you.”

Okay, the end. For real this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're all thinking. Why doesn't chapter five have a name? All the other chapters had names. This is bullshit. What did the author have against this specific chapter? There are no answers here, just vague, unserious anti-societal expectation sentiments.
> 
> I also recognize that there was no market for Meg/Amara. There was no need to put this in here. No one wanted it, no one asked for it. But I ask you this: do you really want to live in a world where Megara is not a ship name? I didn't think so.
> 
> To commenters that wanted Benny: Sorry he didn't fit in, but Team Free Will is going to murder the people who killed him, so there's that.
> 
> Now that my general silliness and ending comments are out of the way, it's been a good time writing this and if you've made it to the end all I can say is thanks.


End file.
